Isla Loca
by 00Tyler00
Summary: When Claire and Owen discover that smugglers are trafficking infant herbivores from Isla Nublar as pets to the wealthy, they set off for Costa Rica to investigate. But as they begin to uncover dangerous secrets in Puntarenas, they realize the island isn't finished with them - and the feeling might be mutual. (Sequel to In Loco Parentis)
1. Chapter 1

_**So here it is: the sequel to my unexpectedly-popular Jurassic World fic In Loco Parentis! Get ready for more of Claire and Owen doing what they do best - dinosaur-packed action fun! For those of you who have not read In Loco Parentis...you might want to give it at least a quick skim so you understand who the surly, sarcastic teenager lurking in these pages is. Don't worry - I've been told he grows on people ;).**_

 _ **Welcome to the madness! - Tyler**_

* * *

 **Prologue (excerpt from In Loco Parentis):**

" _When the ferries came in from Isla Nublar," Gray prattled excitedly as they walked, "word got out that some of the Costa Rican security guards and captains were on the take."_

" _What?" Owen squinted, "What do you mean?"_

" _People said they were paid to smuggle baby dinosaurs…herbivores, of course…off the island." Gray fished Karen's car keys out of his pocket as they approached her ride, "Rich people wanted them as pets or something."_

 _Owen stopped in his tracks, exchanged a wide-eyed look with Stan, and cleared his throat. "How exactly do you know this, Gray?"_

 _The little boy turned soft, earnest eyes on him, "You have to promise not to tell my mom."_

 _The words were like a herald of doom. Owen felt Stan's eyes on him, watching and waiting for his father's response. He felt a slither of dread in his gut and wished desperately that he'd said no when Gray had asked if they 'wanted to see something'._

 _Owen knew – he just knew – what that something was._

 _Refusing to bind himself to any promise, he simply gave Gray a wink and a pat on the back. "Let's see what you got, huh?"_

 _The boy unlocked the trunk of the car without another word. Shoving aside several duffel bags and empty shopping bags, Gray pulled back a tarp to reveal a cardboard box riddled with breathing holes._

 _Stan sucked in a breath beside his father. "I'm guessing that's not a frog for Biology Class." He whispered tensely._

 _Owen moved forward, placing a hand on Gray's shoulder as the boy carefully lifted the lid off the box._

 _There, nestled in the warmth of a pile of vegetables (and its own excrement) was an infant Triceratops. Its bulbous eyelids fluttered in sleep, unaware of its audience._

" _I rescued him." Gray announced proudly, "One of mom's executive friends has a boyfriend from Dubai. He's like this millionaire person who collects exotic animals as pets. We were at her house for dinner when some guys dropped this off for him." He stroked the tiny creature's heaving back, "I knew there was an animal in the box. I was curious, you know? But when I found this little guy…I knew I had to get him out of there and get him to you, Uncle Owen. You can help him, right?"_

 _Stan whistled under his breath and leaned in to his father, "Can I just say how glad I am that Baby Three-Horns is totally taking the heat off me right now?"_

" _Well, don't get too comfy," Owen muttered as he took in the sleeping dinosaur with mounting panic, "'cause by the time you get through helping me with Baby Three-Horns, as you call him…" He cast Stan a wry look, "…you're gonna wish I'd grounded you."_

* * *

 **San Diego, California**

Thirty minutes later:

Claire looked up, eyes shooting daggers at Owen as the trio returned to the warmth of the house.

"Where have you guys been?" The question was an accusation – and it was levelled at Owen. She rose to her feet and sauntered to face him.

"Where's Karen?" Her boyfriend glanced furtively around the front room.

"In the bathroom, hopefully draining _all_ the alcohol from her body. Why? What's going on?" Claire lowered her voice as Owen placed a hand on her shoulder and steered her into the kitchen.

Once she'd heard what _was going on_ , she took a moment to compose herself with several, decisive breaths.

"Well." Claire stated matter-of-factly, " _I'm_ going to need more wine." She reached for fridge, only to have Owen fretting all over her hands.

"Ah! And _I'm_ going to need you sober! Claire," He raised his eyebrows as she glared at him, "I'm in way over my head here. Please."

Sighing heavily, the redhead nodded. "This is _insane_." She muttered, eyes closed as though hoping to be woken from a nightmare.

"Tell me about it." Owen was as thrown by the revelation as his girlfriend. He rested both hands on the kitchen counter and stared at the patterns in the marble, "I'm guessin' we should call Jolene."

"Jolene?" Claire's eyes snapped open, "As in Fisher? What help do you think _she's_ going to be?"

"She's a federal agent, Claire! This kind of thing's her turf!"

"Oh, is it? Well, I'd raise a hand in favor of that motion, but my elbow's still recovering from the _last_ time she helped us out!"

Owen eyed her critically, "I don't think I like Drunk Claire." He declared after a moment of silence.

"I am not _drunk_ , Owen. I am _angry_." She clarified, "We were _done_ with that island!"

"Exactly! So let's hand it over to the feds and _stay_ done!"

"The same feds who locked us up and let Tucker run wild in the name of political correctness?" Claire crossed her arms, "You know what they'll do, Owen. Fisher will make a couple of busts and dig until she finds a scapegoat the public are happy with. There'll be touching footage of the animals released back into their habitat, and that will be the end of it, except that it _won't_!"

"So what, then?" Owen didn't disagree with Claire's prediction. He didn't – but something was hiding behind it.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Claire's shoulders were back, her chin was up, her manner one of irritated resignation, "We have to go to Costa Rica and get to the bottom of this ourselves."

"What?!" His eyebrows hit the roof, "Where did you even…I mean, how is that _obvious_?"

"It's the only…"

"No! You know what?" Owen stabbed an indignant finger at his partner, "What's _obvious_ is that you either have a death wish, or too much Merlot in your system, and I'm _hoping_ it's the latter!"

"What chance do you think those smuggled infants have of survival in even a _best_ -case scenario, Owen?" Claire moved his finger and invaded his personal space, "Even if Fisher manages a few rescues and shuts some people down, who knows how many helpless animals will die before the real perpetrators are caught?"

His mouth clenched shut, nostrils flaring as he looked at her in frustration. Her eyes rose upwards, meeting Owen's steadily, stubbornly.

A crash and a giggle, followed by some violent 'shushing' announced Karen's exit from the bathroom.

"Good thing she booked a hotel for the night." Owen muttered, "Seriously, when you two get together…"

"One week." Claire's petition was wrapped as a statement, " _One_ week in Costa Rica to get answers; that's all I'm asking."

He palmed his forehead, "Claire…"

"If we don't make any headway after seven days, then we'll hand it over to Jolene and do whatever we can to help her." Her voice was entreating.

"And if we _do_ make headway?"

She squared her shoulders purposefully, "Then Jolene will do whatever she can to help _us_."

A part of Owen – the part that was grounded, protective, logical – screamed at him to refuse. But there was another part of Owen Grady – the part that awakened only when pursuing a challenge, the part that had thrived in the Navy as it had on Isla Nublar. That part of him was suffocating under the cozy suburban blanket they'd knit for themselves.

That part of him said yes. _Hell_ Yes.

And Claire knew, she _knew_ – when he dipped his head and met her gaze with a cautious excitement in his eyes – which part of him had won.

* * *

Deciding on a course of action was a good deal easier than enacting that decision. Both Claire and Owen knew that from experience. However, that knowledge didn't make their most pressing task (dealing with the baby triceratops in Karen's car trunk) any less difficult.

The first thing Owen did was call Barry. After returning from Isla Nublar, Barry had retired from the animal behavior field and taken a job in Salem giving seminars to local schools. He'd answered on the first ring.

Getting Baby Three-Horns from Karen's car to Claire's walk-in closet was a whole other feat in itself. Claire played decoy, distracting a now-sober Karen with Netflix rom-coms while Owen and Stan heaved the box with Gray on vigilante duty.

Zach was blissfully unaware of the entire operation. He was too busy texting the latest love of his life – according to Gray, at any rate.

At one point, Stan had asked Gray – between puffs of breath – exactly how the kid had managed to lug the baby triceratops one step, let alone one block. Gray had replied matter-of-factly that the box had been wheeled in on a trolley which he'd simply _appropriated_.

Owen had had to give it to Claire's youngest nephew. The kid had spunk.

The rest of the evening had been comparatively uneventful (although, that was a rather large curve to grade on). Karen had thanked them for a wonderful time and allowed Owen to drop her and the boys three blocks away at her chosen hotel. She'd been pleasantly surprised at the offer of a breakfast meet from Claire for the following morning.

Gray had begged them to 'take good care of Macey' (as he'd dubbed the female infant). He'd been loath to leave her, but conceded she was better off in the far more capable hands of Owen than hiding under his bed.

Fresh trouble came with the morning, however, as Owen and Claire shared the details of their plan with Stanley.

"I don't believe it. You guys are nuts!" The teenager stood in the doorway of the master bedroom, face pale with indignation as he watched Claire and Owen pack their things.

"People visit Costa Rica all the time, Stanley. We'll be _fine_." Claire attempted to reassure him, "Think of it as a…spontaneous vacation!"

"Then _why_ is he bringing _those_?" Stan stabbed a finger at an assortment of menacing-looking knives that Owen was tossing into lock cases.

His father looked up, eyes wide at being caught off-guard. "What, these? These are for…cooking." He finished lamely.

Claire closed her eyes at the unhelpful reply.

"What are you gonna _cook_?" Stan hissed, "Smuggler meat?"

"Make _all_ the jokes you want, Stan." Owen grunted as he dug under their bed for a missing boot, "You _still_ ain't coming with us."

"Come with you? Why would I want to do that? I'll be having _heaps_ of fun with the oh-so-friendly Mitchells!" That was the bitterest pill Stan had been given to swallow – the fact that he was being sent to stay with Karen and her sons for the duration of Owen and Claire's recon trip.

Karen had been surprised, to say the least, when Claire had explained the situation (leaving out the minor detail of Gray's involvement) over breakfast and asked her sister if Stan could stay with them. She'd agreed somewhat hesitantly, worried about more than just the fact she didn't know the kid from Adam. Karen had been concerned over Claire's barely-contained eagerness to get back on her white charger.

If the words 'adrenalin junkie' had been thrown out over steaming mugs of coffee, they had been ignored.

"Hey, they aren't so bad once you get to know them." Claire argued in defense of her family.

"Then how come you always have to nurse a wine bottle whenever they show up?"

"Excuse me?" Claire's eyebrows rose. It was rare that Stan snapped at her these days. She really hadn't missed it.

"Why can't I stay here with Barry?"

"Barry needs to focus on caring for the infant." She explained in what she hoped was a patient voice, "And since that infant was technically stolen from her owner – however illegally they acquired her – if they decided to come looking for it, things could get dangerous. It's better if you're not involved."

"You left out the fact that _someone_ has a history of bailing on his babysitters!" Owen called from the bathroom as he filled up his toiletry bag, "Barry wasn't too stoked on the idea after you sicced _Phil_ on him last time."

" _Dad_!" Stan continued, knowing his only chance was re-directing the argument, "If you guys are gonna charge headlong into stupidity, you could at _least_ let me come along to do some damage control!"

"No one's charging into _anything_." Owen dismissed the claim even as he browsed the rack of his closet and tossed several shirts onto the bed, "We'll be gone a week, tops. If you survived a week of Isla Nublar, seven days with Karen isn't gonna kill you. Might kill _her_ , though." He added with an eyebrow raise.

"Is it because I got arrested?" Stan was growing desperate now, "Is that it? It's your way of getting back at me for…"

"No!" His father sighed in exasperation, casting his eyes skyward, "It's not because you got _arrested_. Now would you _listen_ for a minute?"

The boy bunched his fists and glared, "Fine. I'm _listening_."

"Good." Owen nodded, "We don't know anything about the people running this operation. All we know at this point is that they exist. We have to find'em and we have to set'em up for Fisher, and that might _sound_ exciting, but it's probably just gonna be a whole lot of digging and not much else."

"That's no reason to leave me behind! I could help or I could stay out of your way. You won't even know I'm there…"

" _Stan_." Owen's tone had been reasonable up till that point. Now it was no less calm, but there was a gravity behind it as he paused to make eye contact with his son, "You're not coming."

"But you're not…"

"Stanley!" Owen silenced the young man's protests with an abrupt bark, "That's just the way it is."

* * *

Barry's flight came in an hour later. His taxi pulled in just as Claire and Owen were loading up outside the house. Karen's car was blocking the drive and she was waving enthusiastically at Stan from her window. Stan forced a tight smile in return – _after_ Claire poked him in the side with her nail, of course.

After an enthusiastic reunion, Owen handed Barry the keys (along with three pages of 'minor details' from Claire about the running of the house). Barry clapped Owen on the back.

"Are you sure you don't need me to come with you?"

"Nah, it's just a recon visit. We'll probably hit a wall and end up drownin' our failure in tacos and margaritas."

"Hey." Barry eyed him earnestly, "If you need me, you call me. Alright?"

His friend nodded, sealing the promise with a back-clap of his own.

Claire set down her tote bag to pull Barry into a warm embrace, "Thanks for all your help."

"I know you will be careful. Try not to let him go too crazy." He returned with a wink, and she smiled wryly.

"I will do my _very_ best."

"Need any help?" Owen had his hands in his belt loops, face set in consternation as Stan heaved a weighty rucksack onto his shoulder.

"I'm fine." The monotone words rode a viciously hostile undercurrent. The young man made a beeline for Karen's waiting vehicle, "Have a nice trip."

"Hey, hold on." Owen snagged his arm, stopped him in tracks. Stan grit his jaw but kept his eyes on the car.

"Look, I know this is tough for you." His father murmured in his ear, "And I'm sorry you can't come with us. I mean that."

"It was only a matter of time." Stan's matter-of-fact assertion made Owen frown.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Cold eyes finally moved upwards to meet him, "I knew from the second we met the novelty would eventually wear off and I'd end up couch-surfing with your relatives."

Owen's frown deepened, "That is _not_ what this _is_."

"Whatever." Stan turned away in contempt, "Have fun on your latest joyride. Maybe you can use my bedroom as a shrine to Isla Nublar – if you even bother coming back."

The moment the words left Stan's mouth, it was clear he had crossed a line. Owen released his grip on the boy's arm and glared at him so forcefully that Stan actually shrank away.

Karen's horn beeped. "Stan!" She called out cheerily, "Come on! We've got to beat the traffic!"

Owen managed to get a lid on his temper, sucking in a breath before he met Stan's now-wary eyes with a dip of his head.

"I know you're angry, Stan. So for now, I'm gonna _pretend_ I didn't hear that last part. But here's the thing; I _am_ coming back. And when I do, you and me are gonna talk." Owen's eyes flashed briefly with pain, "And hopefully you can explain to me exactly how I screwed up bad enough for you think so goddamn low of me."

If the words stung, Stan's deadpan expression did nothing to show it. Instead, he shifted his bag further up his arm.

"They're waiting for me."

Owen waved an arm in front of him, inviting Stan to pass. His son moved slowly, jaw set tightly as he looked straight ahead.

"One more thing." Owen's mutter made him pause. The man's eyes were trained on the ground, hands returning to his belt loops, "You pull any stupid risks while I'm gone, I will personally build a new career out of making you regret it. Are we clear?"

The boy grit his jaw, chafing against the response he knew his dad expected.

"Yes, sir."

It was not the parting conversation either had desired, and its bitterness lingered in Owen's face as he shut the car door behind his child. Karen smiled sympathetically from behind the wheel.

"He'll be fine, Owen. I promise."

Warmed by her sincerity, he flashed a lopsided grin, "Thanks, Karen. For everything."

" _You_ are welcome." Karen patted the hand he was resting on the open glass of her window, "Look after my sister, will you? Claire always gets so focused on her quests for justice, I worry she forgets herself sometimes."

Owen's grin widened, "Eh, it's all in the job description."

"Yes." Karen's eyes softened, a sadness taking hold of her features as she squeezed Owen's hand gently, "I guess it is."

"Owen!" Claire called from across the drive, "We're going to miss our flight!"

"Go on now." Her older sister's smile was back, "Go save the world again. We'll be here when you get back!"

Claire watched her partner silently as he waved Karen off and shuffled into the driver's seat of their vehicle.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yep." He snatched up the hand she'd laid on his shoulder long enough to press it to his lips before he dropped it in favor of the steering wheel, "You ready for this?"

"You know what?" Claire caught her reflection in the rear-view and saw a light she hadn't seen in a while, "I think I'm more than ready."

Owen's grin was back, as fond as it was excited. "Well, good." He put the car in gear and hiked up Aerosmith's Back in the Saddle, "Costa Rica, here we come."

* * *

Having spent most of the night on various phone calls and a scramble for leads, they spent most of the plane trip sleeping. Well, Owen did, at any rate. Claire felt his head slump against her shoulder and smiled gently to herself as she scrolled through her phone. She had _no_ intention of flying blind with only one week to root out those responsible for exploiting and trafficking the vulnerable infants of Isla Nublar.

When the plane touched down in Puntarenas, Owen was well-rested and Claire was well-organized. This put them both in an exceptionally agreeable mood, which softened the blow of the humidity that hit them as they left the airport.

"So I did some digging." Claire said as Owen hefted their bags to the designated taxi spot, "Karen said that her friend's boyfriend is called Richard Dougal. He owns several nightclubs in Dubai, and he was here last week to meet with a potential investor."

"Okay." Owen had stripped down to his staple white t-shirt in protest against the heat. His well-muscled body would have distracted Claire on an ordinary day. But today Miss Dearing was on a mission.

"I called in a favor from a friend of mine at American Airlines…"

"You have a friend in American Airlines?"

She gave her boyfriend a patronizing look, "Why do you think we got bumped up to first class?"

"Well, up till _now_ I was puttin' it down to my rugged good looks." Owen's response earned him an affectionate eye-roll, "So what'd you find out?"

"Dougal flew to Puntarenas, just as we suspected." Claire removed her broad-rim hat and used it to fan herself, "I called around all the local hotels. Apparently he checked into one called Los Sueños Marriott and was there about four days. I figure that's a good place to start." She waved an arm, whistled sharply and moved forward as a cab pulled in, "Taxi!"

Owen merely stared as she moved past. "Sometimes you scare me."

Los Sueños was a sprawling four-star joint with all the amenities two hundred dollars a night could buy. Owen tipped their driver generously while Claire directed the hotel porter handling their luggage in perfect Spanish. They were greeted at the reception desk by a young woman who blushed under her rich olive skin as she caught sight of Owen.

" _Bienvenidos al Hotel Los Sueños_. My name is Mayte. How can I help you?"

" _Mucho gusto_ , Mayte. We'd like a room for the week, please. Oh, and…could you put us in the same room Richard Dougal used last week?" Claire wore her best PR smile as she spoke, "He's a good friend of mine. He said he had the _best_ ocean view from your terrace."

Mayte beamed, "Let me check if it's available." Her fingers clacked away, but her eyes jumped nervously between the pair.

Claire rocked back on her heels, hands folded in front of her and waited. Owen looked amusedly impressed. It had been a while since he'd witnessed Claire Dearing work her magic.

"Yes, that's fine. It's a Deluxe Room, ocean view, king-sized bed. Is this alright for you?"

"Perfect. Thank you so much, Mayte. Oh," Claire snapped her fingers in remembrance, "You wouldn't happen to know the name of the local restaurant he frequented, would you? Richard would _not_ stop yapping about that place. Right, sweetie?" She raised her eyebrows at Owen.

"Right. Right. Real…food junkie, that…Richard." He hastily took the cue, shrugging in apology when Claire squinted, unimpressed.

Mayte was processing Claire's credit card, "I know he used to like _La Condesa_." She spoke in a low voice, as though the information was classified, "It's a _mariscos_ restaurant about a mile from here. You can find it on the tourist map in the lobby. Here is your key." She returned her voice to normal as she handed Claire a card, "Enjoy your stay in Los Sueños."

"We'll do our best." Claire pressed a twenty-dollar bill onto the counter top and turned away before a red-faced Mayte could protest. She linked arms with Owen as they followed the porter to the lift.

"What?" Claire asked after enduring several unreadable glances from her man.

"Just picturing you in a suit." He answered, "You could be on one of those detective shows. CSI Costa Rica or somethin'."

"Oh, stop it." She dismissed the comment, but hid a satisfied smile under her copper locks.

"No, really. That was some hardcore sleuthing you did back there." Owen's praise, though laced with teasing, was genuine, "You know, scrap the suit. I'm thinking Ninja's more up your alleyway. You could…whoa." He nearly tripped as Claire yanked them both to halt, "Okay, we've mastered _stealthy_. Now let's work on _graceful_."

"Owen," Her hand squeezed his bicep tightly, "Look. Over there by the bar!"

His eyes followed her directions, and narrowed into slits as they took in the disheveled man stirring a cocktail. Heavily sunburned and sporting dirty, wrinkled clothing, he pushed a pair of glasses up the bridge of his nose with trembling fingers.

Claire looked up at Owen, "Tell me that isn't who I think it is."

"Oh it's him alright." Owen said grimly, "So tell me, Sherlock; just what the hell is _Lowery_ doing here?"

* * *

 _ **Costa Rica, aqui vamos! Things are just getting warmed up, people. Hang onto your seats! - Ty**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hi, all. Sorry this took so long. I took the boy to visit my other half who is working in Germany at the moment. It was so much fun travelling with a four year old solo. Really. I almost didn't have the energy to get this out but hubby surprised me with a brand new laptop that actually has a functioning enter key! So I took it out for a test spin with this new chapter. Thanks for all the love so far. Hope this delivers! (PS: I really love my new 'villain'. Tejeda is so much fun to write and such an upgrade from Tucker. Just throwing that out there.) - Ty**_

* * *

Lowery had just ordered himself a wide-brimmed piña colada when he saw them. He blinked, rubbed at the smudges on his glasses, contemplated just how many drinks he'd actually had.

Owen's hand clapping down on his shoulders confirmed to Lowery that this was no dream. It was a nightmare.

"Hey, buddy. Small world, huh?"

"It sure is!"

Claire's smile was a veiled threat, "What _are_ the odds?"

"Slim to none, I'd say!" Lowery took a deep swig of his drink. He was going to need all the liquid courage he could get, "What, uh, what are you guys doing here?"

"Oh, just...vacationing." Claire slid onto the bar-stool beside him, "You know us. Always up for a little action."

"Right. Right. Action." Lowery was sweating profusely, "Well, that's cool. Great. Uh...so how's Stanley? He's not...with you, is he?" He glanced around anxiously to confirm. Despite their near-death experience, Lowery had Stan pinned as a walking, talking sack of trouble.

Owen would probably have agreed with him.

"Nope. It's just us." The animal behavior expert kept his hands on Lowery's shoulders. They were big - and heavy. "Hey, so what brings you out here, huh? You gettin' a little Costa Rican action of your own?"

"Yeah, yeah. You know me. Always...up for action, too." Lowery felt the panic slip into his voice. They knew something. Claire did, at any rate. Claire always knew something. "So listen, I gotta go, because...I have a meeting with this...girl..." He flustered under the patent Owen Grady eyebrow-raise as Lowery hastened to stand, "...uh... _woman_ , so I guess I'll catch you guys some other time...oh wow. You are _really_ tall."

Owen was blocking his path. His smile seemed less friendly all of a sudden.

"So...I just asked the receptionist how long you've been staying here." Claire folded one leg over the other, her high heels resting on the bar-stool's foot rim, "You've been meeting this girl..."

" _Woman_." Owen corrected sagely.

" _Woman_...for over a month?" Claire cast Lowery a doubtful expression, "Last we heard, you were en route to some cushy new job in the Big Apple."

"Yeah. With InterCel." Lowery huffed, "I took the job. I just..."

"Needed to wear the same set of clothes and cracked glasses for a month?" Claire tapped the side of Lowery's sagging lenses back up his face.

The tech whiz blinked heavily and ducked his head. They were going to break him. He just _knew_ it.

"Hey, man," Owen made it worse by squeezing his shoulder with what Lowery just knew was a sympathetic look, "seriously - what is this? What's going on?"

"Shit." Lowery glanced furtively around, sweat trickling down his face as he juggled his options fearfully, "Okay. Goddamn it. Not here."

"Where?" Claire didn't even flinch. He _knew_ she'd been onto him.

Lowery directed them to tail him at a snail's pace before leaving the hotel. He blazed a trail through the streets circling the _zocalo_ , stopping at an _esquites_ stand to buy a cup of corn. Owen and Claire finally tracked him down at a newspaper stand.

"Look at the magazines." Lowery instructed them, "You don't know me."

"But I _do_ know you, Lowery." Claire murmured as she flipped through a finance rag, "And this...this bedraggled, unkempt fugitive act is _far_ from like you. You obviously need help. So let's not waste anymore time playing Follow the Leader, shall we?"

"I'd do what she says, man." Owen added his ten cents as he squinted in confusion at Kim Kardashian's latest fashion spread, "Trust me; she's scary."

"Okay..." Lowery exhaled dismally, defeated, "So you know how Masrani gave you guys those very generous compensation cheques, right? Well, I got one, too. I mean, nowhere near in the same figures as you guys, but I guess they wanted to appreciate my contribution to..."

"Ten thousand dollar figurine collections just don't cut it anymore." Claire interrupted, annoyed.

"That covered my tech work. Not the face-to-face encounter with a bunch of hungry raptors!"

"Well, _Stan'll_ be pissed." Owen muttered, "He was almost Mosasaur chow and all he got was a lousy t-shirt. Just..." He raised his hands at a glare from his girlfriend, "tryin' to lighten to mood."

"Oh god." Lowery exclaimed in a breathy whisper after a glance about, "Okay, they're watching me."

"Who?" All humor drained from Owen's voice all of a sudden.

"Seriously, you guys have to go. You have to go right now. If they see me talking to you..."

"Enough theatrics, Lowery." Claire snapped, " _Who_ is watching you and _why_?"

Lowery had a magazine shielding the right side of his face, "I made some bad business choices, alright? And now I owe a lot of money to some very bad people who are forcing me to work for them! Now can you _please_ just _go_?"

" _Go_?" Claire exploded, "You drop a bombshell like that and expect us to _go_? How did this even happen? Who are you involved with, exactly, and why..."

"Uh, honey?" Owen took her arm with enough purpose to have her follow his gaze. His eyes were trained on two men lounging against a shabby pillar. Their hardened features were in neutral, but their hands had disappeared into their jackets.

"Yeah, I'm thinking we should _go_." Owen's assertion was not contested by Claire. The redhead cast Lowery a seething glare.

"This isn't over."

The tech genius said nothing, frozen to the spot as Owen steered Claire by the shoulders into the thronging crowd.

One of his shadows - a stocky Latin man with a neat goatee and pockmarked skin - nodded Lowery over.

"Who're your friends, _guerrito_?"

Lowery blinked, stuttered, "Wow, you don't know who they...great, ah, well, well, they're no one, just some tourist pals of mine from way back when..." He trailed off as the man's boots bumped toes with his sandals.

"Mr. Tejeda was expecting you thirty minutes ago."

"Right, right. I just..got a little hungry." He held up his corn cup, "You...you want some?"

The man glared, "Let's go see the boss."

* * *

"I can't _believe_ Lowery managed to get himself into another mess!" Claire seethed as she unpacked her clothes.

"Me neither." Owen offered as he peered through a pair of naval binoculars out the window of their suite.

"I mean, you would _think_ ," Claire continued furiously, "that someone with _four_ degrees under his belt would have a little common sense, but _no_!"

"Nope. Guess not."

"I'm telling you, Owen, he's involved in this whole trafficking scheme. I just _know_ it!"

"You ain't wrong there."

"Okay," She dropped a camisole on the bed and turned, arms folded, "That's your 'I'm throwing out vague responses but I'm not really listening' voice."

"Uh huh." His grunt only served to prove Claire's point - and piss her off. She tossed a flip-flop at Owen's head and was highly annoyed when it missed by a long shot.

"Remind me to sign you and Stan up for baseball when we get back." He didn't even stop staring through his stupid binoculars, "You both _really_ need to work on your swing."

"Could you at least _pretend_ to take this seriously?" She huffed, "I mean, I know my powers of deduction are...well, _exceptional,_ but I need you to be pulling your own weight here and..."

"Come look at this." Owen motioned for her to join him by the window. His tone and eyes were sober. Claire hurried to his side.

"You know that ocean view your pal Richard just _adores_?" Owen handed her his binoculars, "Get a load of those cargo rigs."

Through the potent lens of the binoculars, Claire spotted a small cluster of container ships bobbing with the waves several miles offshore.

"What are they doing there?" She wondered aloud.

"Well, if I had to _guess_ ," Owen's tone darkened, "I'd say they were waiting till nightfall to haul a load of baby dinosaurs ashore."

She put down the binoculars with an astonished look, "They wouldn't be that obvious."

"Oh no?" He raised his eyebrows, "Claire, these people gotta have at least half the city on their payroll to be pulling this off. Waiting till dark is their way of bein' polite to whichever officials are turning a blind eye."

"Well why don't they just stay docked at Isla Nublar till the sun sets?"

"Because they don't wanna get _eaten_." Owen informed her, before holding up a hotel notepad slip, "IMO numbers. I figure we run'em past a few contacts of _mine_ in the Navy, see who's callin' the shots. Is that, uh..." His cocky grin appeared for a moment as he moved to walk by, "enough _weight_ for you, Miss Dearing?"

She pulled in her lips and bit back a comment as he walked away. If she smiled a second later, she would categorically deny it.

The info didn't take long to process. Owen's contacts in the Navy came through, linking the container ships' IMO numbers to a Diego Tejeda. A native entrepreneur with successful business ventures in the US and the far east, Tejeda had also been allegedly tied to arms and drugs smuggling, but had been exonerated based on insufficient evidence.

"Sounds like an all-around nice guy." Owen commented dryly at his laptop as Claire came out of the bathroom, "Whoa." He took in her black Gucci evening dress with a whistle, "Well, look at _you_."

"I just spent the last thirty minutes looking at me." Claire's red lips smile coyly as she turned slowly, "Now it's _your_ turn."

Owen stood up, eyebrows rising at the low-cut back of her dress, "You look...amazing. But, um...a little overdressed for a midnight stroll through the docks. Not that I'm complaining..."

"Owen," Claire's smile faded, "we're not going to the docks. Not tonight, remember? I made reservations at _La Condesa_. And before you start..." She held up a painted nail, "it's a table for four."

Owen gave her a look which he had first used when she'd rolled up her sleeves and declared herself ready to search for her nephews.

It was _not_ an encouraging look.

And just as before, Claire could not have cared less. She handed him a freshly-laundered blazer.

"Just think of it as an upscale Ninja costume."

* * *

 _La Condesa_ had soft orange lighting that filled the thatched-roof restaurant with a warm glow. A group of _mariachis_ belted out smooth Latino tunes as the clients - mostly wealthy - enjoyed seafood and cocktails on the restaurant's floating terrace.

Claire and Owen were welcomed by a waiter in perfect English and shown to their table.

A table at which a nervous-looking (albeit cleaner) Lowery sat drumming his fingers against a tall, cold beverage.

"Lowery, so good of you to join us!" Claire smiled as Owen pulled out a chair for her.

"Join you? What the hell are you guys _doing_ here?" The man sputtered, "No, stop it, don't sit...goddamn it." He mopped at his sweaty brow in a panic as Owen took a seat beside his partner, "Guys, seriously. I'm about to meet with some...some prospective clients. Now will you please GO. AWAY?"

Owen chuckled dryly.

"You're laughing. W..why are you laughing?"

"Because _we're_ your clients." Claire's matter-of-fact proclamation made the blood drain from Lowery's sunburned face. She smiled primly at him as a booming voice rang out.

"Mr and Mrs Blythe." The man approaching the table was neither tall nor heavy-set. He was a lean man in his late forties with a tough mouth flanked on either side by an impressive handlebar. Although the escorts on each side of him were burly, the man gave off an air of quiet confidence in his ability to make quick work of any foes.

"Mr. Tejeda?" Claire clarified as she shook his hand, followed by Owen.

"The very same. Welcome. I apologize for the delay. Please," He spread his hands "Sit down. Mr Lowery," Tejeda sent the techie a sharp look, "Why have our guests not been offered a drink?"

Lowery decided to take a break from internally-combusting to call the waiter over. A round of cervezas - and a margarita for Claire - was promptly served. It was followed shortly by an impressive array of shrimp cocktails, fish, and enormous platters of seafood.

Claire and Owen made polite small talk as they ate, watching and waiting for Diego Tejeda to make the first move. It wasn't until _postre_ was being ordered that the man leaned forward.

"So," Tejeda wiped his fingers on a cloth napkin, "I hear you are looking to...enlarge your household, so to speak. Welcome another family member into the fold."

"Yeah, well, you know. Big house. No kids." Owen wrapped an arm around Claire, "My wife here's got a bad case of Empty Nest Syndrome..."

"We _both_ do."

"We _both_ have Empty Nest Syndrome." He corrected himself after the not-so-subtle dig from Claire, "Heard you might be able to help us out in that department."

Lowery shot them a flurry of dirty looks and hid behind his fifth bottle of Sol.

"I hear Richard Dougal recommended me to you." Tejeda eyed them shrewdly, "How do you know Mr Dougal, exactly?"

"Like I said on the phone," Claire cut in, "His girlfriend is a very close friend of the family. She heard we were looking for something a little more...exotic, and suggested we ask Richard for some advice."

"And his advice was to come to me."

"Yes, it was."

Tejeda was silent for just a moment too long before he smiled broadly. The look somehow heightened his scare factor by fifty percent.

"Then I am pleased to be of assistance. I am getting a new shipment of stock this evening. My men and I will accompany you to the warehouse tomorrow where you can select your purchase. My technical adviser, Lowery, will walk you through the collection and payment details."

Everybody missed the dark glares Owen and Claire shot Lowery at the mention of technical adviser - everybody except for Lowery, of course.

"And so," Tejeda stood up from the table with a clap, " _Hasta mañana_ , my friends. Jorgito," He nodded at one of his entourage, "take care of the bill."

Owen and Claire watched as the man left without another word. Jorgito, a stout young man with a shaved head and fledgling facial hair, sat down and tucked into the dessert. The rest of Tejeda's posse followed him out of the restaurant.

Lowery was left to exchange hostile glances with his former co-workers until Jorgito finished his tiramisu.

He missed Owen dipping his head to murmur in Claire's ear.

"I guess a midnight trip to the docks is on the table after all."

* * *

"Ow!"

"You okay?"

"Just stubbed my toe."

"Well, just...try to keep it down."

Claire glared at Owen's back as he shuflfed ahead of her in the moonlight.

"You know, I'm beginning to _hate_ our little Ninja missions."

"What?"

"Never mind." She rolled her eyes and hurried after him. They kept low, skirting the assemble of parked cars just a few meters from the dock. It was well after midnight, and the air was fresh and inviting. Salt rode the breeze that rocked the tiny fishing boats back and forth on the water.

The moon was full and round and glorious, shining like a spotlight onto the container ships that had docked ten minutes previous. Nobody had disembarked.

Claire nudged Owen as he hazarded a look through the binoculars.

"What?"

"Let me see!"

"There's nothin' to see. Nothing's happening!" He protested.

"Just..." She wrested them from his grip as he grudgingly obliged her, "Thank you." She peered through the lenses, "Oh, wait. Someone's coming!"

"I can see that!" Owen groused, "Oh wait, I can't. _You_ have my _binoculars_!"

Claire _shhed_ him, "Okay," She whispered, "I count ten in total. They're closing in on the boats."

They watched from the shadows as the men cranked heavy equipment into gear. Owen pushed Claire lower to the ground, avoiding the headlights of three, enormous haulage trucks pulling in to the docklands.

"They're offloading." Claire's voice was hushed as she handed Owen the binoculars, "Those trucks must ferry the dinosaurs to wherever Tejeda's keeping them." Pulling out her cell phone, she snapped pictures of the proceedings - and license plate numbers.

Owen's mouth formed a tight, thin line at the low cries of distress from inside the containers being unloaded. One rattled as it dangled from the crane, the helpless infants inside crying for assistance. A crew member slammed the butt of his gun against the side repeatedly and cursed in Spanish.

Owen shook his head.

"These guys are going down."

A sudden noise behind them caused both him and Claire to jump and whirl around. Owen's knife was out of his belt sheath in a flash, blade flat against the neck of none other than...

"Lowery!" Claire hissed in annoyance.

"Quiet!" He whispered vehemently, "If you don't wanna get shot, you better follow me _right_ now!"

Reluctantly, they complied. Once Lowery had led them a safe distance from the docks, he decided to break his silence.

"I know I said I was going to take that job in New York. But then, when Masrani handed me that cheque, I decided to take a little time off between jobs, you know, like...like a gap year, to sort of get my head screwed on straight, you know?"

"And that gap year landed you in this mess?" Claire batted at a mosquito buzzing around her face, "Most people backpack around Europe, Lowery!"

"Well, I _wanted_ to." He defended himself, "But, you know, first I took a little road trip to Vegas to multiply my new-found wealth. You know, being an avid mathematician and all, I figured I could count some cards here and there, and..."

"You blew it all, didn't you?" Owen asked bluntly.

"Blackjack is a demon, Owen. And tequilla. So much tequilla." Lowery shuddered at some dreadful memory.

"That still doesn't explain how you wound up as Tejeda's bitch."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Lowery clutched his heart, "Why so much hating?"

"I'll tell you why." Owen grabbed the smaller man by the scruff of his shirt. It was so sudden, no one saw it coming. "Those are not _assets_ , or _merchandise_. Those are real, living _animals_ \- animals getting torn away from their mothers and sold into a miserable existence. And _you_ are _just_ as much to blame for it as Tejeda is."

"Owen." Claire laid a hand on his shoulder and he released Lowery's collar with a deep sigh.

Lowery adjusted his clothing and glasses, "Look, I didn't have a choice. Tejeda floated me a lot of money and when I couldn't pay it back, he offered me the chance to work off the debt and since it was that or a pair of cement shoes, I took the job! But I didn't realize what it would entail till it was too late to back out, okay?"

"How much do you owe?" Claire continued to wave at the air. That damned mosquito just wouldn't leave her alone.

"Two hundred thousand dollars." Lowery tossed out the number as if reading the price tag on a jar of mayo.

Owen let out a low whistle and took a couple steps away in disbelief. Claire closed her eyes.

"We could pay off Tejeda."

"No." Owen muttered as Lowery shook his head in confirmation, "Tejeda needs Lowery on his team. Even if we got the cash together, he wouldn't take it."

"So what, then?" Claire demanded, We just let this keep on happening?"

"No," Owen finally caught the kamikaze mosquito, squishing it in his fist, "we go buy ourselves a baby dinosaur."

* * *

"Welcome, my friends," Diego Tejeda spread his arms, "to _La Guarderia_. The Nursery, as you say in English, is home to over five different species of herbivores." He flicked on the remaining overhead lights in the giant warehouse, "All infants, of course. Various sizes, shapes, abilities." He smiled, placing a hand on a rusty, red container, "Just..looking for good homes."

Claire glanced up at Owen. The twitch in his jaw suggested he was about to boil over. She clutched his hand tightly in hers and forced a smile. "Oh, darling. Isn't it _exciting_?"

He cleared his throat, "Oh, I'm excited."

"So," Tejeda signaled at one of the twenty personnel he had standing by, "did you have any particular species in mind?"

"Why only five?" Owen broached skeptically as they walked amidst the rows of specially-adapted containers. A stooped, old woman carrying a bundle of grass hurried by them. "I mean, Isla Nublar's gotta have a wider selection to choose from."

"An excellent question." Tejeda stopped, folded his arms behind him and turned to face them, "You see, the majority of the herbivores have been relocated to the eastern side of the island. Unfortunately, we have not been able to access them. The carnivores are, shall we say, rather hungry nowadays. But," He grinned, teeth a perfect row of white, "now that you are here, we will be able to resolve this little problem, Mr. Grady."

Claire blanched. Lowery panicked. Owen squinted.

"No offense, Mr. Tejeda, but I ain't..."

"Oh, please." The mogul held up a palm, "Spare me your modesty. I am... how do you call it... a big _fan_ of your work."

The crowd of watchdogs closed in, blocking their retreat. Claire kept her grip on Owen's hand, eyes trained warily on Tejeda as he continued.

"You see, when I realized exactly who my good friend Lowery's new clients were, well - I resolved to avail myself of your unique set of skills. You...and Miss Dearing, of course," Here Tejeda tipped his head respectfully at Claire, "are legends in your own rights. I knew that bringing you in on our humble little venture would be beneficial for all involved."

"All except the dinosaurs." Owen remarked tersely. His hand had strayed to his knife, his gaze twitching back and forth at Tejeda's entourage.

"They stand the most to gain!" Tejeda disagreed in an injured voice, "With your combined knowledge, _La Guarderia_ will be transformed into a paradise. After all, who better to care for them than those who helped them flourish?"

"This is ridiculous!" Claire broke free of Owen's grasp and stalked towards Tejeda, "If you honestly believe we're going to help you _enslave_ these innocent animals..."

"I think you will find it is in _everybody's_ interests to co-operate, Miss Dearing." The man's eyes shone like black diamonds in a fire. His mustache rose along with the corners of his lips as footsteps preceded the arrival of a completely unexpected newcomer.

"Stanley?" Claire gasped in shock.

"Oh, you are _kidding_ me!" Owen's incredulous yell echoed off the walls of the warehouse.

His son, backpack slung over one shoulder, frowned at the reaction.

"Well, it's nice to see you _too_!"

"Claire," Owen growled as he glared at Stan, "hold me back."

"What?"

"Too late!" He charged, grabbing his son's arm and hauling him aside. Tejeda's people gave them a wide berth.

"What is your _problem_?" Stan demanded, attempting to break loose of the vice-grip his father kept on his bicep.

"Which part, Stanley, _which_ part of _no stupid risks_ got lost in FUCKING TRANSLATION?" Owen slammed a hand atop the metal container behind Stan's head.

"Seriously?" The young man snapped, "You're _that_ upset I'm here!"

"Upset? Upset doesn't hold a goddamn _candle_ to what I'm feeling!"

"Well then why the hell'd you tell me _come_?"

Owen paused mid-rant, "I _what_?" His stomach churned in dread.

"Dad," Stan's tone was that of an adult explaining calculus to a child, "you messaged me last night. You said you were finished your business and you wanted me to come, remember?"

Claire had just caught up to them in time to catch the declaration - and the look on Owen's face.

"Oh my god." She breathed.

" _Dad_ ," His son looked genuinely flummoxed now, "you sent me a _ticket_."

Owen ran his hand across his jaw, "No, I didn't."

Stan's eyebrows furrowed, "Then...who did?"

And as Owen pinned furious eyes on the mild man with the amazing mustache and the smile on his face, Stan knew - he just _knew_ \- he had his answer.

"So, my friends," Tejeda spread his hands once more, "do we have a deal?"

* * *

 _ **Isn't it intense? *Shudders* All is not as it seems, mis amigos. We are just getting started! Leave me some feedback. - Ty**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Back with another update. Thanks to everyone who's taken time to leave their thoughts and feedback so far. Remember, your reviews matter a great deal to me and always bring a smile to my face! Enjoy the latest slice of action. Sorry it's so short! - Ty**_

* * *

Claire watched the Puentarenas port shrink gradually into a long, dull strip against a bright red sky. Diego Tejeda's Catamaran, _La Sirena,_ bobbed beneath her feet as it led a fleet of smaller boats containing his team.

Beside her, Owen's hands were gripping the railing so hard, his knuckles had blanched.

She broke her silence and motioned to Owen's fists as they wrung the metal bar.

"Pretending that's Tejeda's neck?"

He didn't grin. He didn't even look at her. "Or mine."

She knew what he meant. They'd been riding a wave of adrenaline which had started pumping the minute Gray's discovery had come to light. The rush had numbed their senses, calmed their nerves, convinced them that they were invincible.

Naivety and Arrogance had walked hand-in-glove and marched Claire and Owen into this mess.

Before them, Isla Nublar loomed - a giant hulk of rock swamped in cloud. To the uninformed eye, it was an isolated haven.

To Claire and Owen, it was hell on earth.

Claire swallowed heavily, squaring her shoulders determinedly, "Well," She rallied against the dread in her gut, "I guess we're getting an inside view of the operation. Just like we wanted. So, that's good."

Owen ignored the comment. She doubted he even heard it. Instead he turned to his left and then back to Claire.

"Where's Stan?" The question was clipped, urgent.

"He was seasick. He went to the bathroom."

"What?"

At that moment, Stan did the world a favor and emerged from the cabin. His face was pale as he inched his way along the railing for support.

"Where the hell have you been?" Owen demanded.

"Puking." Stan dropped his face into the crook of his elbows, "Seriously...can you ask these guys to throw us a bone and crank it down a notch? Isla Nublar isn't going anywhere."

"'These guys' are _criminals_ , Stan!" Owen muttered through grit teeth as he eyed their surroundings, "The only _bone_ they're gonna throw you is your _spinal column_!"

"Would you keep it down?" Claire rebuked while manifesting a strained smile at Tejeda across the deck.

"Oh no, it's fine!" Stan muttered sarcastically, "Go ahead and yell at _me_ \- the innocent third party. It's very helpful."

"No one is _yelling_." Owen clarified, eyes closing with a deep inhale, "Just...stay where I can see you."

"Why? So you can ignore me from a front-row seat?"

Thrown by the pain in his son's voice, Owen opened his mouth to apologize, to explain that he was angry with himself, not Stan. His reply was extinguished by Tejeda, who approached the trio calmly, Jorgito at his right flank.

"I apologize for the unfavorable sailing conditions." Tejeda waved a hand in Stan's direction, "They are...less than ideal. We have some Stugeron on board, if your son would like to..."

"He's fine." Owen interrupted curtly. His eyes were glued to Tejeda, but his hand rested on Stanley's shoulder as he moved the boy back a step.

Tejeda didn't seem surprised - or offended. "It was merely a friendly gesture. We are in business together, after all, Mr. Grady. I think we should be civil, for everyone's sake."

"Why don't you just tell us what _exactly_ you feel we'll be _contributing_ to this 'business venture', Mr Tejeda?" Claire folded her arms across her chest.

"With pleasure." His smile reached the corners of his eyes, "Jorgito." He received a sleek tablet from his beefy assistant, "I have here various maps of Isla Nublar - touristic, topographical, species-zoned. With these, we were able to locate and apprehend the various herbivores we now have in custody. But this device," Tejeda reached into the pocket of his tailored blazer and produced a bulkier hand-held screen, "this was my good friend Lowery's chief contribution to the project. Do you recognize it, Miss Dearing?"

She did. "We used it to monitor the animal's trackers. Location, body temperature, heartbeat regularity..."

"You also used it to stun them."

"Not since the base-to-tracker system malfunctioned after the park was evacuated."

"Yes, it did." Tejeda's Mona Lisa smile remained in place. It was not reassuring.

* * *

Under the quietly menacing watch of Tejeda's entourage, they boarded the Bay Boats that would take them back to the one place on Earth they'd sworn never to lay eyes upon again. Owen, Claire, Stan, Tejeda and a tough-mouthed Caucasian crowded one boat as it took a hard right in the swelling waves.

Flocks of birds were visible rustling the treetops of the island. A craggy bay brought them inland. Dark walls of rock topped with shrubbery rose in the mist around them.

Claire eyed the scene warily, "I don't recognize any of this." She whispered.

" _I_ do." Owen said as realization dawned. He turned furiously on Tejeda. "We'd _better_ be lost. You can't dock South Side!"

"Can I not, Mr Grady?" The man replied with a curious grin, "We will see."

"The herbivores are _East_! The only thing you'll find down here are predators!"

"How convenient," Tejeda replied simply, "because I am not _looking_ for herbivores."

"You can't be serious." Claire gaped, "You want to kidnap a carnivore infant and unleash it on society? Are you _insane_?"

"I'm an _opportunist_ , Miss Dearing." He explained in a rational tone, "When the Park was in business, Costa Rica flourished. InGen and Masrani paid good money for our partnership. Tourism sky-rocketed. My people benefited. Small business owners fed their families, put their children in good schools. Now, thanks to your former employer's failings, tourism has plummeted. All that money, all those contracts - there is a hole in our economy, Miss Dearing. And someone has to fill it."

"And that someone is _you_?" Claire scoffed.

"That someone is the _client_." Tejeda responded, "Rich people with fat wallets and thin morals. Do you know who has asked me for baby Suchomimus, a baby Velociraptor? The Americans. Maybe military, maybe government. I don't know. I make it my business not to know. But I know who is on my payroll, Miss Dearing, the people I have to pay to keep silent. You know who takes the lion's share of the profits, the money I cannot put into schools or orphanages or hospitals?" He dropped his veneer of politeness, and for a moment a glimmer of contempt flashed through, "The Americans. And so yes, I will kidnap a baby Raptor. And you will help me. Because my people are suffering for your people's mistakes. It's only fitting you should pay some of the price."

"That's circular reasoning." Stan's quiet, snarky contribution to the conversation earned him a warning in the form of his name leaving Owen's lips.

"Perhaps it is." Tejeda, however, seemed amused, "I have heard a great deal about your experiences on Isla Nublar, Stanley. I am sure that you _also_ have many ideas that could help our expedition."

The comment stroked Stan's pride. Anyone could see that - despite the withering look he shot Tejeda and the muttered 'Don't count on it'.

"Listen to me." Owen had had enough, "You need to turn this boat around right now or we are _all_ gonna end up _dead_!"

"Relax, Mr Grady." Tejeda thumbed through the screen on his tracking monitor, "Just enjoy the ride."

Animalistic chatters and shrieks grew louder. Shadows whizzed above their heads. Owen's jaw clenched, hands itching for his Marlin. He nodded at an M16A2 in the weapons bank behind the helm, "At least give me one of those."

Tejeda smiled widely, "You must take me for an idiot, Mr Grady."

"Not unless you take _me_ for a cold-blooded killer."

"Just a warm-blooded man." Tejeda made his wariness clear, "Merlin." He signaled at his man, who brought forward a custom-made tranquilizer rifle. The weapon was one-of-a-kind and had obviously been scavenged from Masrani Corps.

Owen took the offering with relief. They were approaching a muddy bank, and Tejeda's man Merlin was radioing the two Bay Boats that had already shored. The all-clear was given. Their boat hit the soft clay with a thud.

Stan watched as a wide range of artillery was offloaded. Tejeda's ground team was a group of twelve men and women from different cultures and backgrounds. They were all lean-bodied and hard-faced. A sturdy Asian female with her hair in plaits hoisted a rocket launcher on her shoulder as though it were made of Styrofoam.

"We'll keep two men with the boats." Merlin, who seemed higher in rank, spoke in a hushed drawl that placed his hometown on the Bible Belt. "The rest of you, fall into formation 5. Zee takes point." He signaled at the rocket-launcher woman, who nodded, handing her cargo to another comrade.

"Well, they seem really...organized." Stan whispered to Claire, "That's a good thing, right?"

" _I_ was _organized_ , Stan." She replied jadedly, "Didn't help me much out here."

He was less than reassured, "What _did_?"

Claire nodded at Owen, " _He_ did."

"Miss Dearing, Mr Grady," Tejeda waved a hand before him, "If you please."

"What's the plan, Tejeda?" Owen watched the crew hike up the slope, "You just gonna waltz into some nesting grounds, tap on all the eggs and pick the one that sounds less _mean_?"

"An egg." Tejeda stopped in his tracks, turned to Owen with bright eyes, "Of course. Far easier than trapping and transporting a live carnivore infant. Incubation is a simple science."

Owen and Claire exchanged looks of dread.

"An animal born into captivity," Tejeda continued to himself, "raised to revere its owners. Just like your Raptors, Mr Grady. You're already proving an invaluable asset to this project."

"You wanna _steal_ an _egg_."

"A _Raptor_ egg."

"We don't even know that there _are_ any Raptor eggs!" Owen reasoned as they trekked up the bank, "Most of the pack were barely adolescents when Masrani Corps evacuated!"

"Who better to find that out than the Alpha Raptor himself?" Tejeda scrolled through his monitor once more, "I doubt you'll have much trouble."

Owen opened his mouth to snap out a retort, when the tracking monitor began to beep.

"Unfriendlies!" Merlin barked as he scanned the screen, "We got wings at eleven o'clock, coming in fast!"

Stan expected a mad scramble reminiscent of Masrani security. But Tejeda's people were surgical, precise. They set up a perimeter around him, inadvertently including Claire, Owen and Stan in their circle. Weapons were raised, barrels up in a calculated flash.

"You've got nine pings." Merlin informed his boss, indicating at the red dots on the screen.

"Not a problem."

"You need to find cover!" Owen insisted, as the faint cries of the Pteranodons floated on the breeze, "Those things come in _swarms_. For every one you shoot, there's another five to tear your throat out!"

"Relax, Mr Grady." Tejeda didn't seem ruffled.

" _Listen_ to him, for God's sake!" Claire yelled.

The flock filled the grey horizon like a cloud of scattered ash. Owen raised his tranq gun only to have the barrel shoved down by Zee.

"Not yet." Her eyes were on the sky. She seemed excited.

Stan was anything _but_. The shrieks of the airborne reptiles took him back to a helicopter spinning to its doom. He shrank against Owen's side, too focused on the incoming horde of teeth and talons to notice the look of surprise his father shot him.

The reptiles descended, breaking formation to swoop towards the group. A giant male with a snapping beak made a beeline for Tejeda. Owen raised his rifle, Zee be damned, but stopped short as the Pteranodon gyrated violently in mid-air. It dropped like a dead-weight.

Claire watched in awe as Tejeda's fingers flew across the monitor, picking off the reptiles one by one. Not a shot was fired. Their presence remained unnoticed.

"The stun trigger." Claire breathed, "You found a way to fix it."

"Not me." Tejeda tucked the device into his pocket, "Lowery. This tracking monitor not only enables us to anticipate the approach of a dinosaur, giving us the element of surprise. It's also been programmed to activate the...how should I call it...stunner? In some of the smaller reptiles. Not enough voltage to take down, say, a Raptor - but at short range, we've found it very helpful with our little flying friends, especially. In fact, I'd venture to say this little machine here is the key to our operations on this island!"

"Great." Owen stepped over the gyrating form of a Pteranodon as Merlin waved the group onward, "Sounds like you don't need us."

The crow's feet around Tejeda's eyes deepened, "Again with the false modesty, Mr Grady. We are all aware of your special bond with...what is her name again? Blue?"

Owen's face darkened, "Leave her out of this."

"She is a truly remarkable creature." Tejeda's boots were slick with mud as they reached higher ground, "And with Owen Grady, Raptor Alpha, among our team, we are protected."

"No." Owen cut off his path, eyebrows raised in frustration, " _I'm_ protected. Me, Claire, my son. _We're_ protected. That's _if_ Blue still remembers or if she's even still alive. You guys?" He leaned forward earnestly, "You're _meat_ at best, and toys at worst if Blue decides she doesn't like you threatening us."

"And if I decide I don't like _you_ threatening _us_?" Diego Tejeda finally lost his cool, "What then, Owen Grady? Will we have war? You and your raptors versus me and my men?"

"I don't want to fight you." Owen replied firmly, "I just want my family off this island. You send Claire and Stanley back, I'll do whatever the hell you want."

"Owen." Claire scowled.

"Dad!" Stan was louder, " _Forget_ it!"

"You are a noble man." Tejeda eyed Owen with strange, sad eyes, "I wish I could oblige you." He addressed his team, "Let's carry on!"

Barely containing his anger, Owen rejoined Stan and Claire as the group continued. Both shot him furious glares. Stan called him a 'martyr' as though the word itself were poison. Owen couldn't have cared less.

* * *

The south of Isla Nublar was a slice of plains full of long, high grass. Pockets of foliage were dense and scattered. In the distance, Masrani's failed wall was crumbling, fighting a losing battle against decay and the attacks of the predators. Somewhere beyond its confines was the Park - and cover.

If only they weren't heading into the heartlands of the carnivores.

Around an hour into their trek, a hulking beast crossed paths with their party. It was large, sharp-toothed and hungry.

Claire declared it was a 'Metriacanthosaurus'.

Owen shot it full of tranqs after Tejeda's device failed to stop it as it charged the man.

Tejeda gave him a Remington after that.

Half an hour later, Owen made the mistake of glancing at a set of tracks imprinted on crushed stalks of grass. Zee, who it seemed had made it her personal mission to watch his every move, called him on it.

"What is it? What do you see?"

"Nothing." Owen answered stubbornly.

"We got tracks!" She hustled Tejeda over. Merlin tailed him, gun at the ready.

"Raptor?" Tejeda eyed the prints with a lust in his eye. Owen shut him down.

"Looks like Packy tracks to me."

Tejeda clasped his hands in front of him as rain-clouds gathered overhead, "What exactly is a Packy?"

"Pachycephalosaurus." Claire sidled up to her partner as she eyed the tracks, "They're bipedal omnivores. We didn't want to risk putting them with the herbivores due to their agonistic tendencies."

Zee and Merlin looked annoyed. Tejeda blinked, silently demanding a clearer explanation.

"Their name means 'thick-headed lizard'!" Claire snapped, "They have dome-shaped craniums they really like to hit people with, okay?"

"Okay." Tejeda put a hand to his chest and bowed his head in thanks. Claire rolled her eyes. "Is it worth pursuing these animals? I would very much like to see one."

"Sure," Owen offered testily, "if you wanna get head-butted in the gut."

"Maybe we should check it out." Stan, who had been silent up till that point, stepped in. "I mean, they could lead us to their nesting grounds or something. He gets his carnivore egg, we get to go home. Everybody's happy."

"I like your thinking, Stanleycito." Tejeda praised the idea before Owen and Claire could react. He clapped the youth on the shoulders, "You have a great mind for business. Merlin!" The man called his team leader aside for a consultation.

Stan looked up into his father's face to find it a blank mix of confusion and frustration.

"A great mind for _stupidity's_ more like it."

"Hey," Stan was not in the mood to be lectured, "you want Tejeda to back off of the Raptors. Tejeda wants a carnie egg. It's a..."

"If you say 'win-win situation'..." Owen warned with a stab of his finger. Claire cut in, slipping between the two before World War Three erupted.

"Look, what's done is done, so can we _please_ just focus on finding these damn nesting grounds and getting out of here?" She placed her hands on her hips as Owen and Stan glared viciously at one another, "Okay?"

Owen placed his hand over his heart with an exaggerated bow, "Okay." The sarcastic gesture aimed at Claire was followed by a dig at Stan, "'Least we know there's _one_ skull thick enough to charge a Packy in this group."

He strode away, slinging the Remington over his shoulder and nodding at Tejeda, "You want my help, you follow my lead."

"I know this speech." Stan muttered to Claire as they stood listening.

She watched them wryly, "I _hate_ this speech."

"First sign of trouble," Owen continued, "we back off."

"Agreed." Tejeda shot Merlin a meaningful expression.

Owen wasn't finished his list of requirements, "I want three of your guys with Claire and Stanley somewhere sheltered till we get back."

"You have my word."

"Excuse me?" Claire interjected.

Owen gave her a tight-lipped expression but inclined his head in surrender, "Miss Dearing will be joining us."

"Excellent. She is an asset to any operation." Tejeda's flattery, however genuine, failed to inspire the same reaction in Claire as it had in Stanley. The redhead raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

The rumble of thunder heralded a coming storm. Merlin checked his watch and told his team to get a hustle on. Stan grabbed Owen's brawny arm and yanked his father aside.

"You aren't _actually_ going to leave me with these people, are you?" He hissed.

"Well I wasn't _gonna_ , but you just volunteered me for the Isla Nublar Easter Egg Hunt, so yeah, I kind of _have_ to!"

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? Just _please_ don't leave me behind again! I'm just...I'm scared." Stan's statement was so honest it took Owen a moment to digest it.

"Hey, Grady!" Merlin called as the team began to move out, "Ready when you are."

Claire had been handed a taser rifle by a huffy Zee on Tejeda's orders.

"Okay." This time, Owen's acquiescence was not sarcastic, "But keep your head down and your eyes peeled and do _exactly_ as I say, you understand me?"

"Anything you want. You say 'jump, I say 'how high'." The relief in Stan's normally-haughty tone would have been comical under different circumstances. Owen placed a hand on his son's shoulder and steered them both to join the group.

"Let's go find ourselves a carnie egg."

* * *

Gray Mitchell looked up from his laptop screen as his mother knocked on his door. He hastily shrank the browser windows to his toolbar.

"Come in!"

Karen entered, arms folded across her chest and a playful smile on her face, "Hey, you. Whatcha doin'?"

"Just...trying to get Stan online. He said he'd Skype."

Karen rubbed her young son's shoulders, "Well I'm sure he's just busy having too much fun with his dad. All that sun, the white sand beaches. Sounds like a break from the winter doldrums, don't you think?"

"I...guess." Gray mumbled dejectedly. His mom quirked an eyebrow.

"Something on your mind?"

"It's just..." He swiveled in his spin chair to face her, "You know Uncle Owen sent him that ticket and made you put him on a plane and everything?"

"That's right. He sent me a consent letter to give the airline." Karen explained in a 'mom-voice', "Stanley's still a minor. He needed it to fly."

"Well," Gray sighed, turning back to his screen to pull up an image, "I forwarded the email from your account to mine so I could look at it."

"Gray," His mother frowned, "You shouldn't do that, sweetie. We've talked about it."

"I ran it through some tests, you know, compared it to other documents online." Gray continued animatedly as though he hadn't even heard her, "And the notary seal...it looks fake, Mom. There are continuity errors on some of the lines, and the ink looks different..."

"If it was fake, Stan wouldn't have been able to board the plane."

"But look at this!" The child insisted, switching back to the letter, "It says someone called Jorge Lozano was meeting Stan at the airport in Costa Rica. Why would Uncle Owen send someone he doesn't even know to meet Stan? Why not just go himself?"

"Owen and Claire are busy people, honey." Karen dismissed her son's wild theorizing with patience, "I'm sure they would have been there to meet Stanley if they could have. Anyway, enough detective work for one day. Dinner's on the table." She planted a kiss on Gray's curly mop and left.

The boy sat in misery for a moment before his older brother entered the room.

Gray didn't look up from his hands. "Mom says you're supposed to knock."

"Mom says a lot of things." Zach replied evenly, "Some of them make more sense than others."

Gray's wide eyes pinned his sibling as Zach sat down beside him on the bed, "What are you talking about?"

"I dunno yet." Zach inclined his head towards the laptop, "What are _you_ talking about?"

Gray chewed his lower lip, guilt and shame and fervency fighting for space.

His big brother prompted him with a rare, encouraging smile. The boy pulled up a screenshot of the dubious consent letter.

"I dunno yet, either." Gray told his brother soberly, "But I think it's something bad."

* * *

 **Review, my lovelies! - Ty**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Thanks for everyone's reviews! Glad you're still here and enjoying. Here's a nice long chapter to make up for the previous (rather stunted) update. Tyler's back in full swing and so is this fic. Plotline is complete, but suggestions can be incorporated if you leave me some love. Katarina, here's some more of the Mitchell boys for you, baby ;) - Ty**_

* * *

The first few stars of the evening raised their heads as dusk fell over Isla Nublar. Their glory was lost on the group of human invaders, who had followed the Packy tracks into a lush stretch of trees and vines.

Owen Grady stood up from a crouch, brushing his hands free of mud.

Diego Tejeda eyed him expectantly, "Well? Where do we go?"

"Reckon they crossed the creek." Owen nodded at a playful rush of water, "These tracks break up at the bank."

"So we cross, too."

"Yeah. Only this river's a prime hunting spot for Baryonyx."

Tejeda muttered something at Merlin, who declared a water break for the party. The man turned back to Owen as Claire lowered her bulky taser gun beside him.

"What is a Baryonyx? And please," Tejeda raised a palm as Claire opened her mouth, "I would like simple English."

"Maybe you'd prefer Owen to _mansplain_ it for you?" Her skin was coated in a fine sheen of sweat and her perfect blow-dry had frizzed in the humidity. "I'm just about as eager to be patronized as _you_ are, Mr Tejeda."

Owen shot his girlfriend a look of concern. Claire was not a push-over by any means, but she was usually the good cop on the team. Something was pushing her buttons harder than normal.

Then again, nothing about their current situation was 'normal'.

Thankfully, Tejeda was not offended by Claire's response. He merely dipped his head in her direction, the light from the canopy of branches above them catching his slick, dark hair.

"You're lookin' at nine by three meters of sharp teeth and claws." Owen explained in an effort to break the tension, "Essentially, Baryonyx are your Cretaceous grizzly bears. They mainly swipe for fish, but pickings being what they are out here, I'm guessing they'll break their diet for your beefy pal Merlin."

"I see." Tejeda glanced at the babbling current, "And do you see any signs of them?"

"You're standing next to the only water source on the South Side." Owen snapped, "Trust me - they ain't far."

The smuggler nodded, "Excuse me a moment." He left the former Alpha raptor shaking his head as he stepped aside to consult with Merlin and Zee.

"You okay?" Owen squatted down next to Claire as she drank from a canteen.

"Are you?" She rebutted quietly, furiously. She passed him the canteen.

He accepted it, eyes still filled with worry, "Look, I know this sucks, okay? But we'll figure a way out of it. We always do."

"Do we, Owen?" Claire looked up from the vine-covered floor, "Maybe we're too far gone this time." She cast a meaningful glance at Stan. The young man was conversing with Jorgito in what appeared to be semi-civil conversation. Jorgito was showing Stan the magazine in his gun.

Owen face grew grim. "If Nature can find a way, then so can we." He rubbed her shoulder, and she tried to force a smile as he rose to stand.

She failed, and was relieved that Owen was too busy heading towards his son to notice.

Stan's arms were buckling under the weight of the M16 Jorgito had handed him. He wore a broad grin, which quickly faded as his father carefully, deliberately took the gun from him.

Owen extended the weapon to Jorgito, "Nice piece." His tone was clipped.

"Your boy here wants protection."

"Oh believe me," Owen put a hand on Stan's shoulder, cold eyes on the man, "he's protected."

Stan shifted, chagrined, in his grip, "I just..."

"Kid wants a gun." Jorgito had a toothpick between his bicuspids, "I figured it was only fair."

"You figured wrong."

"Look, never mind, okay?" Stan broke free of his father's grip to stand between the two, "Jesus, just forget it!"

The two men stared each other down for a moment too long. A bark from Merlin had Jorgito ambling away with a sly grin that Owen wanted to wipe off his face with a fist.

Stan shook his head and turned to scout for Claire. Predictably, Owen cut off his retreat in one swift move. Hands on his hips, he ducked his head to make eye contact with his child.

"You asked for a gun." It was a statement.

"On the most dangerous island in the world? You bet I did!"

Owen eyed him cynically, "Know how to use one?"

Stan rolled his eyes, "Well, not technically. I..."

"Didn't think so."

"Well, who's fault is _that_?"

"Look, I got enough on my plate without worrying about you blowing a toe off!"

"Well, _whose_ toe?"

" _Anyone's_ toe!" Owen's eyebrows shot up at the petulant question, "Mine, yours, Tejeda's. Your trigger finger gets a little too sweaty even _once_ and things could get real ugly real fast. You want protection? You stick close to _me_."

"When you're constantly running ahead of the group playing Comanche?" Stan whispered agitatedly, "Not as easy as you make it sound, Tonto!"

"Okay!" His father silenced him with a palm, "You're right."

Stan's eyes narrowed in suspicion, "Really?"

Owen unclipped his Hero Knife from his belt and held it, sheath-first, out to his son. "Go ahead."

"A knife?" Stan grumbled even as he took the blade, "What good's _that_ gonna do me?'

"As much good as you _let_ it." Owen turned the boy sideways to clip it onto the belt of his jeans. He lowered his voice as his mouth reached Stan's ear, "You need to keep your head down around these people, kid."

Bored eyes rolled in his direction, "This again? Really?"

Owen took a step back to eye his son severely, "'You say "jump", I say "how high"'?"

Not appreciating having his own words thrown in his face, but acknowledging his promise to his father, Stan sighed heavily.

"Fine. You win. I'll be mute."

"You'll be _careful_." Owen corrected him as he finished fixing the knife sheath in place, "Just...trust me this time 'round, okay, son?"

An exhilarating sort of warmth at being called 'son' flooded Stan, squelching any further argument. He merely nodded his consent. The fact that this was done without a weary sigh or an eye-roll pleased Owen greatly.

Which was good. Becase Tejeda was about to rain all over his parade.

The man adressed his party loudly, "We cross the creek! Mr Grady, if you will be so kind as to scout out the best possible spot for a crossing."

"The hell I will." Owen muttered as he approached Tejeda. When he spoke loud enough to be heard by anyone but Stan, his tone was civil, "You might wanna rethink that, Tejeda. Nightfall's comin' on. Last thing we want is to get stuck around the river at dinnertime. Not to mention it'll be dark by the time we find the Packy nests, _if_ we even find the Packy nests!"

"Dark means cover." Merlin contradicted as he cocked his gun, "Great for egg-thieving."

"Great for getting _eaten_." Claire stepped into the argument, "We should find a sheltered spot, dig in and hope we make it through the night!"

Merlin dismissed her with an arrogant smirk at Owen, "Real firecracker, ain't she?" He lowered his voice, "Bet she tops it in the sheets, am I right?"

Claire heard the comment. So did Stan. The latter lunged forward.

"What the hell did you just say about her?"

Owen swung out an arm, halting Stan in his tracks while he eyed Merlin with a grim expression.

"He ain't worth it, Stan."

Claire placed a calming hand on the boy's shoulder, "Come on."

"One of these days that _firecracker's_ gonna save your goddamn life." Owen informed Merlin coldly, "And when she does, you're gonna feel pretty freakin' stupid."

The hillbilly's ash-blonde stubble spread across his face as he grinned, "How about you get us across the creek first, Lover Boy?"

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Owen and Zee (who had insisted on accompanying him in case he 'pulled a runner') were up-creek, feeling out potential crossings. The stream ran shallow by the banks but dipped low in its middle. A deadly undercurrent yanked a stick out of Owen's hand at one point and swallowed it whole. He winced as the branch surfaced a few meters on only to break on a shag of rocks.

"Still no crossing!" He called to the woman over the rush of the rapids, "Best bet is to regroup and butt heads with your boss about fanning out the search in the morning."

She hefted her gun meaningfully, "We're not leaving till we find a spot."

Owen hiked back up the bank, jeans slick with mud, "You wanna keep looking? Be my guest. I'm not itching to get eaten before sunrise."

"How do you feel about getting shot before sunset?"

He froze, feeling the muzzle of the woman's weapon trained on his cranium.

"Boss says he wants to cross tonight." Zee stated callously, "I'll put one in your shoulder if I have to."

Owen didn't turn around. "Look, you wanna make it off this rock alive, you better start listening..."

Water sloshed behind him. Bracing himself for a fight, Owen turned. When he saw what made his blood run cold.

A full-grown Baryonyx had trudged into the shallows and was swiping for fish with its formidable claws. Its crocodile-like snout sported a neat mow-hawk of spines atop its mottled skull.

The Baryonyx was about ten meters off. Owen motioned in its direction, but Zee had already spotted it. Her eyes narrowed and she raised her rifle.

"No!" Owen mouthed, reaching out cautiously as he inched his way towards the woman, "Don't." His eyes were wide in warning.

Zee ignored him, taking the first shot she got. The bullet had been aimed at the animal's head, but caught it in its right shoulder as it jumped, startled by the noise.

"Shit!" Owen leapt back up the bank as the Baryonyx, injured and furious, shrieked and lunged, "Run!"

Zee let another shot fly which missed the bounding dinosaur completely before she joined Owen in his flight.

* * *

Claire looked up at the echo of gunfire and the accompanying shrieks. She leaped to her feet, Stan joining her moments after

"Oh my god." She whispered.

"Dad!" Stan was already rushing down the hill towards the sound.

"Stanley! Wait!" Claire took off after him, yanking her arm out of Merlin's grip as he made a swipe at her.

More screams tore through the brush, followed by staccato gunfire. Tejeda's team scrambled into action, guns at the ready as they followed the noise.

Claire slipped down the muddy bank, her designer slacks catching on a root and tearing at the knee. She didn't even feel the raw, bloody skin. She was too busy watching in horror as a three-meter-tall Baryonyx closed on Zee as the woman lagged behind.

"Owen!" Claire screamed at her boyfriend, who was only a couple meters off from the bank. He turned around to watch Zee go down. The Baryonyx gored her abdomen with its sweeping claws, shredding her bullet-proof vest and drawing blood. Her scream was primal.

Owen leveled his Remington and fired off a shot. It glanced off a tree, missing the creature as it staggered its attack.

Owen swore and took aim again. Before he managed another shot, Stan had jumped into the melee. Knife drawn, Stan took a blind, flying leap onto the sodden earth of the riverbed. He landed directly atop the Baryonyx and stabbed it in the throat.

Owen yelled his name. Claire yelled his name. Tejeda and his men appeared, guns blazing despite the fact that both Zee and Stanley were wrestling the dinosaur at which they were shooting.

"Hold your fire! Goddamn it, stop shooting!" Owen grabbed Merlin's weapon, it being the closest, and rammed the butt of it into the man's face. Claire shot another trigger-happy man - who had already put a bullet in Zee's thigh thanks to poor aim - with her taser gun.

Tejeda yelled for a cease-fire. He was obeyed. The Baryonyx had already collapsed, riddled with bullets, Stan's knife still lodged in its larynx. Its blood stained the water as it fell on top of both Stan and Zee.

Two thousand kilos of meat, muscle and bone were hefted off of the pair by Owen, Claire and several other men. Merlin, spitting blood from his split lip, emptied the magazine of his gun into the head of the still-groaning Baryonyx. Owen hauled Stan up by the scruff his shirt, hands shaking with adrenaline as he frisked him for injuries.

Claire knelt down in the water and stemmed the flow of dark blood bubbling from Zee's stomach. The woman trembled under her fingers, face white as a sheet amidst a haze of blood.

"She's going into shock!" Claire exclaimed at Tejeda as he crouched down beside them, "We need to stop the bleeding, _now_!"

"Eric! Get the kit!" Merlin barked at a wiry man, who set down his pack with a nod.

"Are you hurt?" Owen asked in a throaty voice as he examined Stan's bloody face.

"I thought it was you." Stan murmured, eyes glassy as he watched Zee bleed out in the water, "Is she going to die?"

" _Answer_ me! Are you _hurt_?"

" _No,_ Owen!" Stan batted Owen's hands away from his face, "Is she gonna _die_?"

Claire looked up at Owen as his son repeated his question. Her hands, wrists and forearms were coated in Zee's blood. Eric - the apparent medic of the team - was working furiously to stem the gushing flow from the woman's open wounds.

"How bad?" Tejeda wanted to know.

" _Very_ bad." Eric had an Eastern-European accent, "Her intestines are pulp. She needs surgery, and she needs it _now_!'

"That's why I pay you _double_."

"Even if I could perform a surgery this delicate, I'd need access to equipment, machines, things we don't have!"

"You _have_ a radio, cell phones!" Claire stood up as Eric took over, "Call a hospital and get her airlifted out before she _bleeds_ to death!"

"You think they will help us." Tejeda snarled, "You truly _believe_ that they would send a helicopter into the most deadly airspace in the world to help a _criminal_! That _is_ what we are, Miss Dearing, after all - is it not?"

"Then you put her on a boat and you take her there yourself!" Claire stepped up close, fury in her eyes, "You have half the city on your payroll and you're saying there is nothing you can do about..."

"Enough!" Tejeda shouted. Owen was beside Claire in a flash, eyes daring the man to lay so much as a finger on her.

It was all in vain. Eric ceased his ministrations.

"It's too late." He breathed sorrowfully, "She's gone."

"No." Tejeda dropped to his knees in the water beside Zee. The woman's lifeless eyes stared vacantly at the canopy of trees above her, a tragic tribute to a life lost too soon.

Claire felt tears slide down her cheeks, palming her face in a blood-stained hand. Owen put his arm around her shoulders as she leaned into his side. Stan stood stock-still, disbelief on his features as Zee's blood puddled around his trainers.

"This is on _you_." Merlin broke the silence as he marched toward Owen, "You and that goddamn little punk."

"Merlin. _Cállate_." Tejeda was still on his knees, Zee's limp hand in his own.

"I said it wasn't safe." Owen's teeth were grit, jaw clenched, as Merlin invaded his personal space, "If you bastards would've _listened_ , Zee might still be..."

Merlin socked him in the jaw, sent him sprawling in the mud, "Shut up!"

"Hey!" Outraged by the provocation, Stanley waved his blade at Merlin, "You touch him again, I'll stick you like I stuck that dino!"

"Stan, you little moron! Put that down!" Owen leaped to his feet.

"STOP IT!" Claire screamed. "Everybody, just calm down!"

Merlin's weapon was in Stan's face, "Guess your old man never taught you not to bring a knife to a gun fight, you little shit."

"I SAID _ENOUGH_!" Tejeda jumped up, grabbed Merlin's gun and twisted it while swiping at the man's feet with his leg. Caught off guard, Merlin fell on his ass in the water. Tejeda hauled him up in a choke-hold, surprising his captives with his strength.

Merlin flailed in the vice-grip, face turning red as his air supply ran shallow. His boss hissed vehemently in his ear.

"We just lost a companion, and you want to insult her memory with a _berrinche_? _O te calmas, o te mato_!" Tejeda tossed the bulky man aside in disgust, " _Pinche chamaco_." He spat, straightening his clothes as he stalked away.

Enraged and humiliated, but knowing better than to show it, Merlin stood and brushed himself off. Eric had closed Zee's eyes and he and Jorgito were dragging her body from the water.

A flock of birds took flight, startled by a noise as they rustled the tree branches. Owen reached out, snatching the bloody knife from Stan's grip.

"Give me that." He snapped, turning to Tejeda, "We need to get out of here. _Right_ now."

"Agreed." The man signaled at Merlin, "Take two men and bring her to the boats." He motioned at Zee with grief in his eyes, "I want her taken back to Puntarenas tonight. Make sure they call Doctor Ramón - he knows what to do. The rest of us will make camp until morning."

"But, the crossing..." Jorgito complained.

"No one's crossing tonight." Tejeda silenced him with a look. "Mr Grady, perhaps you can suggest a place to camp."

"Oh _now_ they want his help." Stan muttered to Claire. Unfortunately, his father overheard. The man turned on Stan with a look he usually reserved for something he was about to shoot.

Thankfully, no shots were fired. Not with tangible ammo, at least. But Owen's eyes were shooting daggers as he tossed a rag from Eric's kit at Claire.

"Can you get that blood off his face?" He muttered to her through grit teeth, "I can't deal with him right now."

Claire nodded in understanding, squeezing Owen's hand before he rejoined Tejeda at the front of the group. She turned to Stan with what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

* * *

An hour's hike upstream found them setting up camp in the ruins of what had been a storage unit. It was now a circle of broken rock, crushed by Indominus Rex in the years previous. Vines ensnared the concrete rubble. Tiny critters, native to the island before the dinosaurs had taken over, nestled quietly in moss-covered crannies.

Tejeda had his men set up a perimeter, stoking a ring of fires around the campsite and setting up heavy artillery at watch points. Night fell as tents were pitched and rations produced.

Merlin had returned from seeing Zee's pallbearer committee safely out to sea. The man was evidently still seething from the earlier encounter. He glared resentfully across a spitting fire at Owen, who was grudgingly consulting Tejeda on his watch system.

"You got seven men." Owen advised, "River bank's facing east, that's where you need to pile on the ammo. You want your rocket launchers and at least three men manning that side at all times. Then two at each of the other points in the perimeter."

Jorgito, overhearing, piped in protest, "And when do we _sleep_?"

Owen eyed him coldly, "When you're dead."

"Do as he says." Tejeda nodded, ignoring the eye roll his subordinate shot him.

Claire winced as she attempted to pick splinters of broken root out of the graze in her knee. Eric approached her, filthy and haggard.

"Can I help you with that?" He offered, motioning to his kit.

Claire wanted to snap that _no_ , he could _not_. But she knew the risk of infection on top of the dangers they were already facing wasn't worth her pride. Instead, she managed a short nod.

The medic took a seat on the fallen rock beside her and began to carefully apply an antiseptic.

"I'm very sorry you're here." Eric spoke in a whisper, "Tejeda is a hard man. You shouldn't have crossed him."

She threw him a shrewd expression, "We were trying to prevent the exploitation and deaths of innocent baby animals. And I think you'll find _Tejeda_ is the one who shouldn't have crossed _us_."

"I have a baby girl." The medic applied a generous guaze strip to Claire's raw knee, "And a wife. They live in Miami. I haven't seen them in eleven months. If I try to leave, if I expose him, he will have them killed."

The frost in Claire's face melted just a tad at that information.

"You are not the only ones being held at ransom, Claire Dearing." His eyes met hers quietly, "You're not the only ones who want to leave."

The message was coded, leaving Claire to dissect its exact intent. She was just about to pry further when the man finished tending to her knee.

"It should be fine. If there is any increase in the swelling or pain, inform me." Eric straightened and headed off before Claire could get a word in edgewise.

"Everything alright?" Owen was standing barely a meter away. She wondered how long he'd been there. He looked tense and grim, like a sergeant in a war zone.

"If by everything, you mean ' are my very expensive and favorite pair of slacks salvageable', then no." Claire smiled ruefully, "Otherwise, I'm fine." She wanted to reach out and pull him to her side, rest her head against his abs while he carded strong fingers through her hair and they shared some inside joke about Stan's mopey-ness. But something had snapped inside of Owen, and although Claire could never be afraid of him in a million years, she was beginning to be afraid _for_ him.

"You should get some sleep." Owen suggested as he checked the ammo on his Remington, "Merlin wanted to draft you for the guard duty shift rotor, but I shut his ass down quick enough."

She frowned, "You didn't have to do that, Owen. I can help with the..."

"Just 'cause you _can_ don't mean you _should_." He interrupted, not unkindly. She squinted, un-amused. Owen sighed.

"Look, I'm not telling you what to do. Just thought there'll be plenty of action come tomorrow morning. Might as well get some rest while you can, huh?" He rubbed her shoulder.

"And what about you?" Claire was unconvinced.

"I got first watch. But I'll come join you in a couple hours." Owen bent down to plant a kiss on his girlfriend's forehead, "Just humor me, alright?"

"Fine." She agreed grudgingly.

"Oh," Owen mumbled in a low voice right before he turned to leave, "what did Doctor Frankenstein have to say when he was patching you up?"

Tossing up her options and deciding it was best to keep Eric's comments on the down-low until she knew exactly what they meant, Claire shook her head.

"Nothing. Just...you know, making conversation."

"Well, tell him to make conversation with someone _else's_ girl." Owen muttered, holstering his gun and trudging to the easterly guard point before Claire could answer.

She rolled her eyes at the territorial remark. _Men_.

"Let's go." Owen was calling his son, who was picking at a can of baked beans Tejeda had shoved at him. "You got first watch."

"I do?" Stan looked surprised. Claire didn't blame him, "With who?"

"With _me_." His father snapped, not breaking stride as he headed to the watch.

Stan cast Claire a worried glance as he stood up to follow. The kid looked genuinely terrified.

Claire didn't blame him for that, either.

* * *

The crackle of the perimeter fires was all but drowned out by the nocturnal sounds of the island. Groans, shrieks, chatter and squawking all blending together in one gloriously terrible cacophony.

Stan watched Owen set his rifle up on a stand with nimble fingers. Beside them was a rocket launcher, nestled snugly in its own hold and ready to be fired at a moment's notice.

The rocket launcher reminded him of Zee, the way she'd shrugged it on as though it were nothing but a paperweight.

Stan shut down that thought train before it derailed and took his wits along with it. He sat, cross-legged, beside the formidable weapon and sized it up with his eyes.

"You should probably teach me how to work this thing." Stan declared matter-of-factly, "Especially after..."

"I put you on my shift so I could make sure you weren't off kamikaze-jumpin' another prehistoric grizzly." His father cut him off with a tone so casual it was twice as terrifying as he checked his scope, "But just so we're clear: your _only_ contribution to this night's watch consists of _three_ words; _yes_ and _no_ and _sir_. I'll let you figure out the order in which you think I wanna hear them since _apparently_ you're such a genius."

Stan rolled his eyes, "I _told_ you I thought it was _you_..."

"Yes, no and sir, Stan! Ain't exactly rocket science."

The boy threw up his hands in exasperation, "Well then I'll just let you get _eaten_ next time, _sir_!"

"Me? I had to drag you out from under a nine-meter carnivore after you decided to throw everybody's target off by _jumping_ it!"

"I heard you yell, I saw it on top of her and I thought it was you! I'm _sorry_!"

"Well that would've looked _real_ pretty on your tombstone. But it doesn't change the fact we had a conversation _thirty_ minutes before you jumped it about staying out of trouble!"

"I panicked, okay?" Stan snapped, "Are you hearing what I'm saying? I was worried and I just wanted..."

"Worrying's _my_ job."

"Well, what's _mine_ , then?"

"Not giving me shit to _worry_ about, that's what."

"That's _totally_ illogical." Stan muttered, " _Sir_." He offered viciously as Owen threw him a scowl for the comment.

Both frustrated at the stalemate, neither spoke for a while. The night rolled on, seconds turning into minutes and minutes to hours at a painstaking rate.

Stan's eyes began to droop and he rested his chin on his knuckles, elbows on his folded legs.

"This is the _worst_." He grumbled in a whisper, "You could at _least_ give me back my knife so I can _pretend_ to be useful..."

"Shut up." Owen barked suddenly.

"Okay, you know what? If you're gonna talk to me like that..."

Owen clamped a hand over his son's mouth. His eyes were trained on the foliage ahead of them, whole body on alert. That was when Stan heard it - a muffled scuffling growing steadily closer.

Releasing Stan's mouth with an eyebrow-raise of warning, Owen took hold of his rifle. His eyes were sharp as he scanned the rustling branches.

"What is it?"

"Shh!"

Stan huffed anxiously, "Give me back my knife!" He reached for the weapon clipped to Owen's belt.

"Will you..." Owen swatted his hand away, "Get back to camp!"

"I'm not leaving you alone out here! What if that's the T-rex?"

"It is _not_ the T-rex!"

"Well, how the hell do _you_ know?"

"I just _do_. Now will you..."

The brush broke as a dark figure trotted quietly into the light of the campfire. Its scaly hide glimmered in the flames, sinewy cords of muscle rolling under streaks of blue. One powerful hind leg gave a slight limp.

He recognized her immediately.

She bared her teeth and hissed at him.

"It's Blue." Stan whispered, grinning, moving forward. Owen stopped him in his tracks.

"Wait."

His son frowned "Why?"

Owen watched the Raptor's eyes, the tilt of her head as she scrutinized them. Blue's hind claws raked across the ground.

"Because she doesn't remember us."

* * *

"I can't believe we did this." Gray Mitchell said excitedly to his older brother, "I can't believe we're _doing_ this!"

"Neither can I." Zack muttered, glancing over their shoulders after ringing the bell to the pine door before them, "Okay, so just...be cool, alright? And remember, if Mom calls..."

"The look on Dad's face when we showed up for a surprise visit was totally epic, and his new girlfriend was so upset that she left." Gray smirked at the white lie, "I can't believe you talked her into writing a consent letter for us to cross a state line."

"Well, when I told her my idea, she was all too happy to oblige." Zack sounded pleased with himself, "That's one good thing I learned in English lit: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

Gray nodded to himself, "We should decide what to tell Barry. That way, if he quizzes us, we can..."

"There's no 'us'. _I'll_ do the talking. Now just..."

"Be cool. Right. I got it." Gray ceased fidgeting with his jacket as the door clicked open.

Barry stood at the threshold of Owen and Claire's house. His surprise at seeing Claire's nephews tumbled out of his mouth.

"What...why are you two...is your mom out there?"

"No. She's at home." Zack explained casually.

"A state away." Barry pinched his nose, "Jesus Christ. And what are you two doing here alone, at night?"

"Well, we..."

"We wanted to check on Macey!" Gray interrupted his older brother eagerly.

"And you couldn't just call?" Barry demanded.

"We tried! Your phone is disconnected."

"Really?" The man raised an eyebrow cynically. He ushered them inside and shut the door. Striding to the landline, he held it to his ear, frowning at the lack of dial tone. Sliding his hand into his pocket, Barry pulled out his cell phone and was met with a lack of signal.

"See?" Gray declared, "I _told_ you it was disconnected. What?" He protested when Zack gave him an unimpressed expression.

"No one likes a smart ass."

"Who's being a smart ass? I'm just telling him that we were right!"

"That's being a smart ass. You keep that up, you're gonna start sounding like that doofus Stanley."

"Stanley's not a doofus!"

The boys were so engrossed in their arguing, they failed to notice Barry checking the windows with worried eyes. Then the power went out.

They noticed that, for sure.

"What's happening?" Gray backed nervously into his brother. He'd always hated the dark. That little phobia had only worsened after Isla Nublar.

Barry drew a handgun, ushering the boys into a corner of the kitchen. "Someone is here." He whispered to Zack.

"You think they're coming for that dinosaur?" The young man scanned the windows anxiously. Gray tugged his arm.

"They wanna take Macey?" His voice was loud, frantic. Barry and Zack hushed him in unison.

"Power's out. That means no alarm system." Barry cursed. Claire and Owen had the best safety system in the city. If the alarm were to activate, local security forces would be alerted. Somebody had thought this through.

"Okay. You need to get upstairs. Go to the master bedroom and get in the walk-in closet." Barry steered the boys to the staircase.

"What about you?" Gray asked frantically, "What about Macey?"

"She's in the basement. I will be fine. Go!"

"Come on!" Zack took his little brother by the arms and pulled him up the stairs. They ran down the hallway, breaking stride as Gray spotted dark figures moving in the bushes.

"Come _on_." The older Mitchell urged in frustration.

"But _look_!" Gray pointed to the object of his concern.

"Shit." Zack checked his phone, "No reception. You?"

Gray unlocked his scroll screen with frantic fingers, "N...nothing!"

"Okay, get in the closet!" They reached Claire's impressive walk-in. Zack pushed his little brother under a rack of floor-length dresses and ruffled his mop of hair.

"Stay here. You understand?"

"But...but Barry said we _both_ had to stay!" Gray had tears in his eyes.

"I'm coming right back! Just stay put!" Zack was already outside, slamming the closet door shut behind him. He heard breaking glass and the sound of gunshots as he was halfway down the stairs.

"Shit!" Zack turned and hot-tailed it back up to the master bedroom. He skidded to a halt on the carpet and pulled out the drawer of the king-size bed. He knew exactly what he was looking for, and it being Owen's house, it didn't take long to find it.

A neat-looking .44 lay among Claire's carefully folded linen. Zack clutched its unfamiliar weight as he ran back down the stairs. The front room was a mess. Splintered wood and shattered glass decorated the flooring. Light from the street lamp outside did little to illuminate Zack's path. He pulled out his cell phone, breath short as he put his flashlight app to use.

The ground floor was deserted. Zack heard banging and shouts from the basement and his stomach dropped. A yell of triumph followed by a low shriek confirmed they had found their prey.

Sweat dribbled down his back, soaking his Aeropostle sweater. Zack jumped at a moan from behind the kitchen counter. Panicking and flicking off the safety of his pilfered gun, he inched around the marble-top surface.

Barry was lying propped up against one of the cupboards. He was clutching a kitchen towel over a bloody wound in his shoulder, broken glass littering his clothes and face. The man caught Zack's gaze with his own glazed eyes.

"We need...to go..." Barry muttered through teeth clenched against the pain.

"Come on." Zack whispered, clicking on the safety and tucking his weapon in his belt. He hefted Barry to his feet, buckling under the man's weight even though Barry leaned heavily on the counter for support.

Gray appeared at the head of the stairs, eyes wide and face tear-stained.

"Zack, what happened?"

"We have to go. _Go_!" His brother pointed at the door. Gray ran to his side instead, ducking under Barry's other arm. The two helped the broad man limp out the doorway, escaping by a thread as orders were shouted for the infant triceratops to be lifted from the basement.

Zack's car was parked around the corner. A souped-up Mustang his dad had given him for his sixteenth birthday as a consolation present for leaving the state. Zack would much rather have had his father than the car.

Right then, though, the car came in pretty freaking handy.

Barry winced as he rolled into the back seat, Gray sliding along beside him. Zack buckled up and turned the engine over, pulling out into the street with a rabid need for speed. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt a pulse in his temple.

"We need to get him to the hospital!" Gray cried from the back, eyeing Barry with worry etched in his young face.

"Really? You think?" Zack snapped, attempting to focus. He had no idea where to find a hospital in the area, but figured the main road would be a good place to start looking.

"Slow down!" Gray yelled as they narrowly missed a red light, "You're gonna get pulled over! You're not even indicating! I read on Google you're always supposed to indicate when you turn..."

"Hey, why don't you Google 'backseat driver', you little punk?"

"Right. Take a right!" Barry called through grit teeth, "The hospital is two blocks down. You leave me outside the emergency room and you go _straight_ home!"

"But what about Macey?" Gray protested, "They took her. We can't just let them get away with it!"

"You go home," Barry hollered, " _Now_!"

They left Barry outside the emergency room as instructed. The man wouldn't even let them park. He staggered through the sliding doors before collapsing onto the lobby's cold floor. Zack watched a gaggle of doctors surround the man and hoist him onto a stretcher.

"Hey," He turned to Gray, who had begun to sniffle, "He's gonna be okay."

"But Macey isn't." The boy burst into tears, "We have to go after her, Zack. We just...we _have_ to!"

"We can't." Zack told him curtly, "So stop that crying and put on your seatbelt. I gotta take the car to get cleaned up before Barry's blood leaves a stain and Mom starts asking questions."

Gray dragged his sleeve across his nose, eyes shooting daggers at his brother as he did as he was told. Zack was still examining the mess in his back seat when an unfamiliar phone began to ring.

The brothers looked at each other, each shrugging as they checked their devices before the older Mitchell fished around under the seats. He surfaced with a beat-up black Samsung.

"I think that's Barry's." Gray offered, still swiping at his eyes, "You should answer it. It might be his family or something. We should say he's in the hospital..."

"Fine. If it will shut you up." Zack rolled his eyes and accepted the call, "Hello?"

"Barry? It's Lowery."

"What? Lowery?" Zack crinkled his nose, and Gray's eyes widened as he sat bolt upright in his seat, "Uh this isn't Barry. It's Zack Mitchell."

"Zack? As in Claire's nephew Zack?" Lowery sounded impatient, "Well, put Barry on the phone, kid. I ain't got all night and this is important!"

"Barry can't come to the phone right now." Zack snapped, annoyed at Lowery's condescending tone.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because he's in the Emergency room. He just got shot."

"What?" The techie's voice grew cold, "What happened?"

"I...uh...he was house-sitting for Owen and Claire and some dudes broke in and shot him." It was all the information Zack was willing to give a virtual stranger who hadn't exactly earned any brownie points.

"Oh god. Okay, you have to listen to me, Zack. Owen and Claire, they're in big trouble, okay? Huge. Stan, as well. I can't...I can't get specific but I need you to call someone for me."

"Okay." The young man answered guardedly, "Who?"

"Jolene Fisher. She's an FBI agent. You can reach her via the feds, or for all know Claire's got her number floating around somewhere."

"I think you should just call her. What if she doesn't take me seriously?"

"I can't call her, alright? They're watching my every move..." Lowery muttered some curses, sounding flustered as objects clanged in the background, "Look, if you wanna help Owen and Claire, you call Agent Fisher and you tell her they are stuck on Isla Nublar with a very bad person who's using Stan as collateral. Okay? Can you do that?"

"Fine." Zack muttered. Gray was listening anxiously, eagerly.

"And one more thing, kid," Lowery's breathing was shallow, rushed, "You didn't hear it from me, okay? This conversation never happened!"

Zack frowned, "Well then how am I supposed to convince the feds that..."

The line went dead.

He rolled his eyes, "Great." Tucking away the cell phone, Zack put the car in gear and backed into the road.

"Did I hear right?" Gray asked him cautiously, "Are Owen and Claire in trouble?"

"You _always_ hear right. Nosy."

"So what are we gonna do? Are you gonna call her?"

"Who?"

"Agent Fisher."

Zack groaned, swiping a hand across his face as he worked the wipers. Rain had begun to patter down, glowing orange in the headlights of the cars.

"Well?" His little brother, apparently fully recovered from their earlier brush with death, demanded, "Are you gonna call her or not?"

Stopping at a red light, Zack pulled out Barry's phone, scrolling through the contact list. His hunch paid off as he hit a cell phone number that would have taken him all night to get out of the Federal Borough of Investigations.

"Of course I'm gonna call her."

"You gonna tell her Lowery was the one who phoned it in?"

This time, Zack smirked smugly.

"You bet I am."

* * *

 _ **REVIEW! - Ty**_


	5. Chapter 5

**_Happy Easter, everybody. Back with another update packed with wild, Hollywood-style dinosaur action for you all! My reviewer Belen wanted to see some affection between Stan and Owen. Like you said, it's early in their relationship, but I've started introducing it._**

 ** _I want to thank everyone who takes time to review this fic. But there are quite a few silent readers out there who I would really love to hear from. Those of you who are authors know that a lack of feedback can stagnate a fic just as quickly as a couple heartfelt reviews can light a fire underneath it. So be nice, and hit that button. And enjoy the update! - Tyler_**

* * *

Owen watched cautiously as the Raptor advanced on them slowly. She seemed wary to strike, which kindled hope.

"Don't move." He whispered to Stan. The order was unnecessary. The boy was stock-still, frozen by his side. Wide eyes followed giant reptilian orbs as the Raptor examined them thoroughly.

"Why isn't she attacking?" Stan muttered, sweat beading on his brow, gleaming in the firelight.

Owen didn't answer - _couldn't_ answer. He kept eye contact with the giant beast he'd raised from a hatchling, watched her as she closed the space between them. Powerful fore=claws curled to her breast, Blue blinked and sniffed.

"Hey, girl." Owen threw out softly, forcing his muscles to relax as the Raptor's throat clicked and she cocked her head at him, "Come on, I ain't been gone that long. Don't look at me like that."

Blue hissed.

"Whoa! I'm not makin' excuses, okay?" Owen protested. His son would have rolled his eyes had he not been more concerned with being eaten.

"Come on, Blue." The Raptor Alpha's tone was quiet, pleading. Slowly, cautiously, Owen lifted his right hand. The open palm and splayed fingers were met with hesitancy by the Raptor.

Owen held his breath as Blue nosed her snout closer, nudging his hand as she took in his scent. At any moment, the giant teeth could snap and take his forearm off in a single bite.

A sudden call from the camp had Blue jerking away. She darted back into the brush, blending with the shadows. Owen released the breath he'd been holding, resting his hands on his knees.

"Wait...you were _scared_?" Stan asked, sounding genuinely surprised at the notion.

Owen raised an eyebrow, "You _weren't_?"

"I'm a kid. I'm _entitled_!"

"You're right on both counts." Owen reached out to pat his son's shoulder blade. They were interrupted by Merlin, the man's boots cutting a loud path through the turf.

He slapped his rifle and nodded at Owen, "My shift."

"Uh, you know what? We're gonna pull a double." The former Navy serviceman rattled Stan's shoulders as the boy opened his mouth to protest, "Think I might've hit a brainstorm 'bout gettin' us over that creek tomorrow. I wanna ride it through."

Merlin rolled his eyes, "Suit yourself. Better look alive come morning, though."

He received only icy silence in reply as he trudged back to the camp, rifle slung across his shoulder.

"Are you crazy? Another shift?" Stan burst into the protest he'd been holding in the moment they were alone.

"Can't risk her comin' back and getting shot at by the village idiot over there." Owen nodded at Merlin's retreating back, "Soon as he's settled, you go on back and get some sleep."

The young man's eyes squinted witheringly, "Nice try. I'm not leaving you alone out here with God knows what hiding in the trees."

Owen swallowed a testy response to the tune of 'you'll do as you're told'. Ever since their latest misadventure had begun, his normally reserved and sullen son had become unnaturally...what was the word?

Clingy. _That_ was the word. Stan was now officially _clingy_. And Owen had to acknowledge that the _clinginess_ was not _entirely_ unfounded - and was unlikely to fade so long as they remained on Isla Nublar.

He drew in a heavy sigh, forced a small smile of defeat, and settled on the ground beside his son.

* * *

Claire woke with a start, sweat drenching her already filthy outfit as she sat bolt upright. The night greeted her, warm and damp and dangerous. She threw off the military-grade blanket she'd been issued and stood up, the naked sky above her and the vine-covered floor of the jungle beneath her shoes.

Soft snores of those few lucky to be spared the red-eye guard shift met Claire's ears. She stepped over prone, slumbering bodies as she picked her way through the _al fresco_ campsite. A quick glance at her digital watch informed Claire that Owen and Stan's shift had ended half an hour previous. Frowning, she got her bearings and headed east.

A hand slammed down on her ankle, nearly causing Claire to fall headlong to the ground. She shook her foot free and glared down at Merlin, who was sprawled, half-naked across a mat.

He grinned toothily at her, and she deepened her scowl.

"Where we goin' then?" Merlin drawled.

"To pee. You want to watch?" She wasn't about to be intimidated.

The brawny man tucked his arms behind his head, "They volunteered for a double rotor. Morons actually seem to like it out there." He nodded at the sentry fire aways off.

Claire moved to go, shaking her head as she felt Merlin's eyes devour her backside. She stalked purposefully to the east guard point, fully prepared to give Owen a mouthful about heroics and all-nighters.

"Owen." She whispered forcefully, marching into the light of the fire, " _Owen_!"

"Shh!"

Claire cupped her hips in her hands, readying her lecture. She dropped it as soon as she saw Owen. The man was sitting bolt upright against a tree, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

Stan had fallen asleep. The boy's back was slumped against the tree, head drooping into the nook of Owen's broad left shoulder.

Owen looked mildly terrified, but there was a pride somewhere underneath the uncertainty that made his girlfriend smile despite herself.

Claire's planned lecture dissipated. Pleased to have witnessed the moment, but feeling guilty for intruding, she raised her palms and made to slink away.

Owen caught her wrist, his grip made awkward by his rigid posture.

"Stay with me." He whispered.

She obliged him, sinking onto the ground to his right. Gratefully, Owen switched his grip from her wrist to her hand, gently toying with her fingers in the firelight.

"Blue was here."

"What?" She eyed their surroundings, "When? Why didn't you tell me?"

"'Bout a half hour ago. And I thought I just did." He took her outburst in his usual stride. Claire cooled her jets, practicality emerging once more.

"That's why you took another shift. In case she came back."

"Not sure how much help I'll be if she does." Owen muttered, "I don't think she knew me."

Claire frowned, "Did she attack you?"

"No."

"Then of _course_ she knew you."

"I dunno." Owen sounded forlorn, "I wish it was that simple."

His partner cast him a shrewd smile, "It never is with women." She nudged him playfully, then winced as Stan's head dropped from its perch with the jostle.

"Whoa." Owen's hands swooped under his son's skull, catching him mid-fall. Stan, deep in the throes of adolescent slumber, didn't even stir. He was dead-weight in Owen's grip.

Claire wanted to laugh at the look of utter helplessness on her normally competent beau's face. But Claire Dearing was nothing if not classy. Instead, she untied her rumpled jacket from around her slender waist and bunched it up in Owen's lap. She then assisted him in easing Stan's head onto the makeshift pillow.

Owen caught her eye and she flashed him a brilliant smile. He relaxed into the moment, the grimness around his mouth fading as he returned the grin. Claire settled against the tree, resting her head on his shoulder and taking in the great dark around them.

"We'll get through this." She whispered.

Owen recaptured her fingers, "Yes, we will."

* * *

Morning brought with it fresh woes. Temperatures had soared to new, horrific heights, drenching the group in sweat. A cloud of mosquitoes had settled in the air and were relentlessly attacking any exposed inch of flesh. Tempers - and testosterone - were running high.

To top it all off, Owen had committed the apparent crime of moving Stan back to the camp at some point in the night. The young man had woken up _highly_ indignant at having been 'put to bed' like 'a goddamn five year old' and was surlier than ever.

"Wonder how offended his majesty would be if I told him he fell asleep in my _lap_." Owen had muttered grouchily to Claire after Stan's wrathful outburst.

"Don't you _dare_." She'd warned him ominously.

After packing up camp, Tejeda declared they would abandon the Packy trail.

"My men picked up some Raptor tracks skirting the east bank." He combed his hair back with ring-clad fingers, squinting at Owen and Claire, "It must have approached the campsite during the night. The tracks are uneven, suggesting unsteady gait. Just the sort a Raptor like...what was her name... _Blue_ might possess. I am genuinely amazed she did not attempt contact with you, Mr. Grady."

Owen caught the less-than-subtle jab and glared frostily, "Guess she wasn't a fan of my new crowd. Blue's never had much use for unfriendlies unless it was filling her gut with'em."

Tejeda scowled, "Nobody was eaten."

"Guess she's gotten picky in old age."

"Or perhaps you were too preoccupied to notice her presence." The smuggler baron continued in a neutral tone, "Your attention was divided during your watch, if I am told correctly." He cast a glance at Stanley, who was grudgingly assisting in shutting down the camp.

"Perhaps a removal of...potential distractions...will prevent this from happening in the future." Tejeda waved a hand, "Jorgito!"

"Yes, boss?" The man ambled over, gun slung over one shoulder and a heavy rucksack over the other.

"Take Stanleycito and follow the set of Raptor tracks we found upstream. Señor Grady and Miss Dearing will help us with the northbound prints."

"What? Absolutely not!" Claire snapped vehemently, even as Jorgito headed towards the boy with a grumble.

"Hey!" Owen yelled, storming forward. Merlin and a pair of gun-toting associates blocked his path as Stan was herded away from the group.

The young man's face grew anxious as Jorgito muttered in his ear, and his eyes shot to his father and Claire.

"This is outrageous!" Claire fumed at Tejeda, "You expect us to cooperate while you stab us in the back?"

"You deliberately failed to inform me a Raptor had made contact." The man replied coolly, his voice hard as flint, "Trust is a fickle thing - dearly bought and, yet, so easily lost."

"Listen to me." Owen attempted to reason, "This is the Central American jungle, which also happens to be swarming with dinosaurs! If we split up, we're as good as dead."

"Relax, Mr Grady. Your _hijito_ is in good hands."

"Yeah! _My_ hands!" Owen yelled as he lost patience, "You're not taking him away from me!"

"How will you stop me, Mr Grady?" Tejeda raised an eyebrow, "You will call in the dinosaur cavalry? By all means," He gave a bow, "I await them with excitement."

"I don't need the cavalry." Owen's blunt remark was followed by a wide fist that bowled Tejeda over. Repercussions were instantaneous. Owen was on his knees in the mud, a barrage of kicks assaulting his ribcage and Merlin's gun thumping at his face.

"Dad!" Stan rushed forward in horror. His elbow was snagged by Jorgito.

"Owen!" Claire threw herself at his assailants, toppling one of them to the ground. She was hauled to her feet by Merlin.

"STOP!" Stan screamed, voice raw with fear as the men continued their vicious assault, "Stop it! I'll go! It's fine, I'll go! Just leave him alone!" He turned pleading eyes on Tejeda, hands raised in surrender, "Please! Just stop hurting him!"

Tejeda rose deliberately to his feet, his left cheek swelling and his mouth set tightly. He straightened the lapel of his jacket and graced Stan with a stony nod.

" _Esta bien_. I have no doubt that two Gradys are better than one when it comes to hunting Raptors. Enough." He waved off the men still laying into Owen with a distasteful grimace.

Claire yanked her arm free of Merlin, dropping to her knees in the sludge beside her partner. Owen was on all fours, breath labored and blood dripping from his lips. She rubbed his shoulders and met Stan's eyes with tears glistening in her own.

"You have seen how I deal with betrayal, Stanleycito." Tejeda was advancing on the boy, a cigarette caught in his lips. He stopped shy of the young man, cupping his hands around the flame of the lighter. "It would be unfortunate if your failure to cooperate resulted in more...distress... for your _papá_."

"Yeah, I'm getting that."

"Then we part as friends." Tejeda's eyes wrinkled deeply with a calculated smile. "Jorgito, maintain radio contact at all times."

"Let me go as well." Eric volunteered suddenly, gear strapped firmly to his back. He was unfazed by the calculating look Tejeda threw him, "What good is the boy to us dead?"

Claire didn't miss the glance the medic shot her. She conveyed her gratitude with a barely-visible nod.

"As you wish." Tejeda approved the offer with a drag of his cigarette, "Mr. Grady," He waved at the path before them, "Whenever you are ready."

Wincing from the pain of his cracked ribs, Owen rose to his feet, assisted by Claire. His face was battered, bruises already beginning to color swelling skin. He watched, helpless, as Stan followed Jorgito and Eric up the river bank.

Claire saw Owen's bloody fists clench painfully and held his arm. The grip was as much for restraint as it was for comfort.

"Stanley!" Owen's call was rough, hoarse, desperate. The boy turned around with a bored, almost resentful expression.

"What?" _Oh no._ Please _don't make this harder than it has be. I'm already scared shitless_.

His father tossed him the sheathed Hero knife with precision. Stanley caught it with fumbling fingers. "Just..." _I love you. I hate this. Why'd you have to pick up all my worst traits?_ "Be careful out there." Owen's voice shook as he pleaded.

The emotional display from Owen made Stanley's confident facade waver. He faltered, looking for a just a moment like the frightened child he was, before tapping the knife to his forehead in a mock salute.

"It's all good, dude."

Claire watched Owen's jaw clench and his eyes narrow as Jorgito's party fade from view. She dabbed at his split eyebrow with the hem of her sleeve.

It was _not_ all good.

Not good at all.

* * *

The day wore on grimly. Owen led the party on, grudgingly keeping to the fresh Raptor tracks heading to the mountain. Stan's absence hung like Damocles' sword above his and Claire's heads, an invisible gun to their temples. They complied with the hunt, rage and resentment overshadowed by the fear that one false move on their part could end with Stan's demise.

Claire watched Owen wince one too many times and decided she had had enough.

"He needs to rest!" She pulled Tejeda out of earshot, not caring a bit for potential repercussions, "In case you hadn't noticed, your people broke his ribs. They might be shy of puncturing a lung, for all we know!"

Tejeda gave Claire a condescending smile, "An unfortunate side-affect of crossing me Miss Dearing. Would you care to lead the hunt yourself?"

She glared at him determinedly, hands on her hips, "Yes. As a matter of fact, I would."

You didn't challenge Claire Dearing to a game of chicken. She would win...or die trying.

"Really?" Tejeda's eyebrows rose.

Chin held high, Claire stalked purposefully past the ruthless mogul. Her shoes pattered lightly around indentations in the mud.

Hands on her knees, head spinning and adrenaline pumping, Claire thought fast. She made a decision which she enacted before regret forced her to recall it.

"These tracks lead into the mountain brush." She declared with the confidence which had roped in many a potential investor in the past, "Raptors tend to favor higher ground, especially with the increase in competition for food. My guess is if we follow these tracks, they'll lead us straight up to the peak."

"Dinos climbing mountains?" Merlin let out a mocking laugh, "Now I've heard it all."

"How much do you actually know about this island, hmm?" Claire advanced on him, "Judging by your incompetent display so far, I'm guessing your sources are Wikipedia and Google maps. You don't know these animals. You don't know this island. And you most definitely don't know me."

The man's eyebrow twitched in time with his jaw. The redhead eyed him scornfully, chin butting into his airspace.

"What's the matter, Merlin? Afraid to tackle something besides defenseless herbivores and innocent children?"

"What are you proposing, Miss Dearing?" Tejeda interrupted precisely as his man was ready to blow a gasket.

"I'm proposing that you cut a full day off your hunt with _that_." Claire pointed upwards. The men followed her indication, eyes squinting at the morning sun which encased a line of sagging capsules in the sky.

"And what is that?" Tejeda queried.

"The Gondola Lift." Claire turned to him matter-of-factly, "Bird's eye view of Isla Nublar. Takes you right up the peak of the mountain. Not only will you likely shave time off a rondezvous with the Raptors, but you'll have an eagle's perspective of the island and any other potential nesting grounds from which to pick and choose. All of this while avoiding any further incident." She tilted her head, "In the words of my stepson; it's a win-win situation."

"Now I _know_ you're crazy..."

" _Cállate,_ Merlin." Tejeda snapped as the man moved forward. His eyes, like coal flints, rested on Claire, "How can you be sure that it still functions?"

Claire Dearing was nothing if not a woman of ambition. When she set her mind to something, it was rare that she did not achieve it. Success came as naturally as her every waking breath. It made Claire intimidating to men who did not appreciate her inner strength.

Owen Grady was not one of those men. But appreciating strength of character was a far cry from appreciating recklessness.

Which meant it was probably a good thing Owen had veered off the beaten path to check for tracks when his girlfriend manually kick-started the dormant Gondola Lift from a vine-shrouded control panel.

If Owen knew the island like the back of his hand, Claire Dearing knew the park.

She stepped back from the tangle of vegetation, almost losing her footing but regaining it. Hands planted on her hips, she turned to the group with a satisfied eyebrow-raise.

Tejeda dipped his head, a smile tugging at his mouth, "It is clear to me why Mr. Grady holds you in such high regard. He must count himself very fortunate to have obtained the favor of a such a truly impressive woman."

Claire shot him a withering smile, "Owen doesn't like to underestimate people. It's part of his charm."

"And confidence is part of yours." Tejeda's eyes shot to the gondolas as they began to creak and shift down the line, "This ride begins inside the park. How are we meant to access the pods?"

"All the control boxes are attached to maintenance towers." Claire yanked at a strand of heavy vine, tugging it away to reveal a wickerwork of beams. "You'll find ladder rungs under all this mess. We climb to the top and from there it's as simple as hopping into the first pod we see." She pushed her hair off her face, "Just like a ski lift in the Alps."

A huff escaped Merlin's lips. The burly hick leaned into his boss, "I don't trust her. That lift looks rickety enough, let alone the tower. I ain't climbin' up some hunk of rotting junk just 'cause Red here says so."

Overhearing the comment, Claire rolled her eyes. "Oh, for God's sake!" She rolled up her sleeves, sized the tower up with a quick appraisal, and then proceeded to plant her feet on the first rung of the rusty ladder.

The men hung back, jaws slack as they watched the petite woman scale the shrub-shrouded maintenance tower. Tejeda glanced at Owen as he entered the scene and realized exactly what was happening.

He did _not_ look happy.

"At least your poor judgement doesn't extend to taste in women." The smuggler's brow arched smoothly, "She is truly exquisite, Mr. Grady."

Beside them, Merlin snorted, "She's gonna break her neck."

Owen's mouth set tightly as Claire rose to an uncomfortable height. " _I'm_ gonna break her neck." He muttered, stepping forward to the bottom of the tower, "Uh, sweetie?" He called up to his girlfriend, gripping the bottom rung, "What you doing up there?"

Claire grimaced as she batted aside a mound of leaves, "Just...trying to get a bird's eye view." She called back, "We can follow the Raptor tracks up the mountain much...mmf...quicker from up here!"

"Okay!" He called loudly before shaking his head in complete bewilderment. He squinted at his girlfriend's ascending form, boots gripping the ladder as he started to climb after Claire. Below them, Tejeda snapped his fingers at his team to begin their ascent.

"Uh, honey," Owen only reopened the topic once they were out of earshot, "remind me why we're takin' the Gondola Lift again?"

"Because," She was out of breath, eyes focused upwards as she held on for dear life, "the Lift was closed down once the Pteranodons and Dimorphodons realized it existed and attacked any crew members inside."

He paused, remembering the incident a year prior when an InGen clean up crew had dared to ride the lift. The airborne reptiles had punctured their gondola with giant beaks and carried them away. Tucker had only shut the lift down when the workers held a strike refusing to ride it any longer.

"Right." Owen was not reassured. He continued to scale the ladder, Claire's shapely figure several feet above him. He was far too distracted to admire the view. "Still not really following your thought process here!"

"Ugh!" Claire stopped mid-climb, gripping the rung tightly and twisting to give Owen her attention. The drop was dizzying, and she squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling before continuing in a whisper. "We need to ditch Tejeda's team and get back to Stanley. So far, all attempts have failed."

"Attempts have failed? We haven't even _tried_ an attempt!" Owen protested, voice dropping in sync with hers as he reached her feet.

"Well then _clearly_ it's time to start." She declared in the matter-of-fact way that so became her.

Below them, shouts from Tejeda's entourage echoed through the mist that had settled around the peak of the tower. A muffled warning not to try anything from Merlin rang loud and clear through the fog.

"Just trust me." Claire whispered with earnest eyes as she reached down to cover Owen's hand in her own.

He nodded grimly and they continued their ascent. A flat platform pierced the treeline, swamped in low-hanging clouds that stretched their wet breath wide across the island. Claire clambered to her feet, Owen right behind her. They took in the vast expanse of greenery that was Isla Nublar with sober eyes.

"It looks so different from up here - almost...peaceful." Claire breathed.

"Yep." Owen replied, "Like a big green blanket keeping Hell all nice and cozy."

She flashed him a wry smile and rolled her eyes.

Merlin was the next one to the top. He hefted his weight onto the platform, still flush on his belly as he reached down and produced a handgun.

Owen blanched and moved in front of Claire as the man aimed it directly at her head.

"I don't trust you, bitch." Merlin's voice was soft, his eyes digging into Claire's, "We don't need you on this goddamn run. Already got the boy to yank this one's chain along, now don't we?" He nodded at Owen with a maniacal grin, "Then again," He rose to his feet, tucking the gun away, "little Junior won't last ten minutes in the jungle without his daddy. Guess we'll need her after all."

Claire and Owen were silent, glaring quietly at Merlin as Tejeda sprang gracefully to the top of the platform. The man's brow glistened with sweat, but his eyes were shining.

"A truly invigorating climb." He declared, stepping aside to allow the rest of his team standing room, "And an equally inspiring view."

If Tejeda's eyes were fixed firmly on Claire, with her flushed cheeks and bold jawline, nobody called him on it. Although the twitch in Owen's jaw suggested that he desperately wanted to.

Owen was the first to catch hold of the approaching gondola as it rattled past the platform. He yanked open the door and swung inside, feet first. Tejeda was behind him, followed by Claire, Merlin and the rest of the team. The pod swayed in the air, stinking of damp and filthy beyond belief.

"I can see how this was once an impressive attraction." Tejeda ran a palm along the cracked, slimy glass as the gondola rose steadily above the trees. "Tell me, Miss Dearing. Would this pod be capable of supporting the weight of one of your prehistoric assets?"

"I think you can see for yourself that the pods can hold all _kinds_ of animals." Claire replied in contempt. Owen would normally have smirked but his eyes were scanning the grey horizon sharply, anxiously. His hand itched for the gun which had been taken from him.

"Sir," Merlin looked up from his earpiece, "Just touched base with Jorgito. The trail's hot. He thinks they're onto something."'

"Good. Tell him to confirm when he has a sighting and to stay hidden until we regroup." Tejeda replied, "Under no circumstances are they to engage the animals. You see, Mr. Grady?" He turned to Owen, "I am a reasonable man."

"If that trail's really hot, the _animals_ will be doing all the _engaging_ before anybody can _regroup_!" The former Navy man snapped, "Call them off before you lose your medic!"

"I somehow doubt that _Eric's_ safety is your priority, Mr. Grady." Tejeda glared as Owen invaded his personal space, towering over the shorter man.

"No. My _son_ is my priority, and if you want to get off this hell-hole of an island alive, I suggest you make him _your_ priority as well."

"Back it up, Grady!" Merlin was already drawing his gun.

"Will everybody just calm down? This isn't helping." Claire attempted to interject some diplomacy. Her attempt was ignored.

She smiled. _Perfect_.

"Why must everything be a war with you, Mr. Grady?" Tejeda sounded like a frustrated parent, "I could have killed you and your family the moment you put your noses in my business. Instead, I offer you a profitable partnership, and you continue to refuse my generosity!"

Owen's eyebrows rose dangerously, "If by 'generosity', you mean blackmailing us into returning to the one place on Earth we _hate_ beyond imagination, then, yeah, we'd like to pass!'

"You should have considered that before messing with something you have no chance of comprehending!"

"You're stealing baby dinosaurs and selling'em to the highest bidder! What's not to 'comprehend', _amigo_?"

"Stop!" Claire threw herself against Tejeda as, to everybody's shock, he lunged at Owen. The man stumbled, almost losing his balance before securing himself and the woman who'd grabbed hold of him.

Claire stood, frozen as Tejeda's hands closed around her biceps. His eyes were wild, chest heaving with exertion as he set her on her feet. She stepped away from him and he released her, seeming entranced despite Claire's obvious repulsion.

"I apologize, Miss Dearing, for that poor display of manners." Tejeda straightened his ruffled clothing and regained his composure, "It seems this is too small a cage for so many wild animals."

"Well, that's too bad." Owen's keen eyes were first to spot a cloud of scattered ash barreling towards the gondola lift. "'Cause it's about to get a lot more crowded in here."

The familiar shrieks echoing through air caused Tejeda's eyes to widen. His team snapped into action, backs to each other and guns to the glass. A flock of Pteranodons circled the pod, their giant wings upsetting the air current. Claire would have turned her ankle were it not for Owen's solid grip as he caught her mid-fall.

"When I call it," She whispered in his ear, "open the emergency hatch."

"What?!"

"Trust me!"

"I count at least ten of'em out there!" Merlin called over the shrieks as he jammed a fresh magazine into his weapon. The reptiles began to attack, latching onto the brace beams of the pod with their giant claws and stabbing at the thick glass with their beaks.

Tejeda reached into his jacket pocket with a confident expression.

It was an expression which quickly turned to shock when he came up empty-handed.

"The device. Where is it?" He grabbed Merlin's collar, a vein in his forehead throbbing beneath his knit brows.

Owen had used the confusion to inch towards the emergency exit at the center of the roof. He felt Claire's arm wrap around his waist and looked down to see Tejeda's shock tracker nestled safely in her bra.

He resisted the untimely urge to kiss her right there and then.

One of the Pteranodons punctured the glass. It was met with heavy fire from one of crew and fell, shrieking, from the pod. Another three replaced it in a moment, shattering the entire pane and showering Tejeda's men with broken glass. An automatic weapon clattered to the floor at Owen's feet and he swooped it up with great relief.

"Now!" Claire urged, and Owen yanked on the handle, twisting as the hatch flew open. A hulking Pteranodon landed atop the pod, screeching in their faces through the hole. Owen riddled its skull with bullets and hoisted Claire through the opening. She held onto the connection component for all she was worth as the pod rattled and shook under the vicious assault of the airborne predators.

Owen's head poked through the hole moments later. "Duck!" He yelled as he fired at another Pteranodon swooping for Claire's head. She recovered quickly, grasping the emergency harness fastened to the cable and clipping it around her waist.

"Come on!" She yelled at Owen, extending a hand.

Owen had almost reached her when a shot blasted through the glass roof. Tejeda stood beneath them, as his team battled the flock of reptiles. Blood crested his forehead, but it paled in comparison to the red-hot fury in his eyes as he took aim at Owen with a hand-carved .44 once more.

Claire's wide eyes met Owen's before he committed the ultimate sin. She knew what he was going to do even before he did.

"No." She whispered.

Owen shoved his gun into Claire's hands and pushed her off the gondola pod.

"OWEN!" Claire screamed, helpless to defend him as her harness rushed down the cable line. The reptiles did not pursue her. They had their prey exactly where they wanted them. She jerked to a halt at the next pod, her feet scrambling for purchase on the glass as it swayed softly in the mountain breeze.

Claire heard another shot fired and saw Owen roll to avoid it. He was left dangling from the side of pod by his bare hands. Screams filled the air as one of the men fell from the gondola. His flailing body was ruthlessly pursued by a swarm of diving Pteranodons.

Claire frantically disconnected herself from the harness and sent it back down the cable with a forceful shove.

"Owen, take the harness!" She called over the roar of the air currents and the eerie reptilian shrieks. Her voice was lost in the carnage of the attack, but she saw Owen register the harness' return and inch his way towards it.

He had almost reached it when a Pteranodon clutched him under the armpits and carried him away.

Claire screamed his name, watching as the winged reptile struggled to stay airborne with its live and kicking prey. Taking in the treetops beneath them and sucking in a breath even as tears streamed down her face, Claire waited for her chance. And when the Pteranodon bearing away her boyfriend flapped within range, Claire took a flying leap.

Air rushed up to meet her as she fell, clumsily drifting close enough to grab the giant beast around its neck. The Pteranodon plummeted under the new weight, snapping at her with its beak as they spiraled downwards. A moment before impact, the reptile abandoned its prey, releasing Owen from its clutches. Claire promptly let go before they barreled into the trees.

It was singularly the most painful thing she had ever experienced. She bounced off branches like a human tennis ball, smacked against wood and bark and twigs as her skin lacerated and her bones bruised deep.

The last thing Claire saw was the leafy ground rising up to meet her before she passed into blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

"Hey! Stanleycito!"

Stan was scanning the jungle with sharp eyes resembling his father's. He was certain he'd heard the distant bangs of gunshots.

"Did you hear that?" He breathed, more to himself than to his jailors. Jorgito approached him, annoyed.

"You know what I hear?" The man gripped his arm tightly, "I hear a little pain in the ass spacing off when we got a fresh trail to stalk. Get a move on!" He shoved Stan in front of him.

"You know, for someone whose occupation is catching dinosaurs, you're as bright as a black hole and twice as dense." The typical Stanley-esque insult was met with a dazed squint from Jorgito.

The teenager rolled his eyes and clarified, "These tracks are ancient. They're embedded in dry mud."

"Some of them." Jorgito snapped, "Some are fresh. They overlap, which means this is a frequent route for the Raptors."

"You wouldn't have even known how to _look_ for these tracks if my dad hadn't shown you." Stan pointed out as he stepped over a gnarly root. Eric flanked them quietly. He had yet to say a word.

"Speaking of your _papi_ ," Jorgito turned on the young man, "I'd better take that knife of his. You might hurt yourself, and then the boss would chew me out for letting his pet get injured."

"Well, I'd love to, but Owen's kind of anal about his knives and if I give it _you_ , he'll probably be doing all the _injuring_." Stan placed a hand over the sheath as Jorge moved to claim it.

"Well that ain't my problem, _mucoso_!"

"You might wanna _make_ it your problem, _puto_!"

"This is ridiculous!" The medic suddenly intervened, pressing a palm against each chest, " _I_ will keep the knife!"

Stan huffed. Jorgito huffed. Eric pinned the former with a sharp look.

"If you're worried I won't care for it, you can examine the tools in my kit for reassurance."

Deciding Eric was the lesser of two evils, Stan surrendered the weapon with a heavy eye-roll. Inside, he felt more vulnerable than ever without a piece of Owen at his side.

"You better not freaking lose it." He warned Eric as they continued, "My dad loves that stupid knife."

"As he clearly does his son." The doctor's tone dropped softly, a conspiratorial air hunching his body closer to Stanley as they walked, "I also love my child, Stanley. And so, we're not as different, he and I, as you might think."

Stan narrowed his eyes, irritated at what he deemed a patronizing attempt at bonding, "Whatever _that_ means."

Eric gave him a weary, mysterious smile before moving forward as Jorgito called his name.

"Look!"

A wall of heavy vines had crept across a rock face. They dangled like the thick, coarse beard of a mountain God. Above them was a sheer wall of stone. Beneath the vines, the Raptor tracks had vanished.

"I think we're onto something." Jorgito announced excitedly, pulling out his own blade and hacking at the plants. They gave instantly, falling to the side in a swooping green curtain. A hollow in the rock with a bright spoke of daylight came into view.

"It's a cave?" Eric stood at the entrance with wide eyes.

"It's a tunnel." Jorgito bolstered his gun in his grip, "Come on! They can't be far!"

"Oh, great. Great plan, dude." Stan scoffed at him, "Just...find the secret Raptor passage and _waltz_ right in unnoticed."

The man's peach fuzz bristled as he twitched his jaw, "Not to worry." He acted swiftly, snatching Stanley's arm and shoving him to the front. "We have VIP access, isn't that right?"

"Get off me, you idiot!" Stan protested as he was pushed through the opening, "Look, I am _not_ my dad, okay? I'm not the freaking Raptor Whisperer! They won't even _know_ me!"

" _Blue_ will know you." Jorgito pressed the muzzle of his gun into the small of Stan's back.

"Blue tried to _eat_ me! Like, _twice_! She only backed off of me 'cause of Owen's scary eyebrows." Stan stumbled into the light after a final shove from Jorgito, "If you think hiding behind me's gonna buy you anything but the time it takes me to get _chomped_ on, then..."

"Quiet! Both of you!" Eric whispered, "Look." He stepped forward in awe.

They were surrounded on every side by high walls of rock that encased a quiet waterfall gushing into a babbling brook. Thick layers of fallen leaves covered the banks, mixing with twigs and strips of bark to resemble sawdust packing.

And there, peeking through the scattered trees and gleaming in the sunlight, were a cluster of mottled eggs.

"We found it." Jorgito breathed ecstatically, "Holy shit, I can't believe we found it."

"Something's wrong." Eric was already sweating, eyes darting around the tropical sanctuary, "Where are they?"

Jorgito's smile was giddy, "They're probably stalking the other group, making sure they stay away. Guess it's our lucky day."

Stan's heart had started to pound with terror the moment they'd entered the Raptor's hidden lair. He felt numb with fear, his feet moving backwards with a will of their own.

"We have to get out of here." He whispered, "We have to get out of here _now_!"

"What's the matter, kid?" Seeing his retreat, Jorgito grabbed him by the collar and hauled him forward, "The way you jumped that dino yesterday? I didn't take you for a pussy."

"You can take me for whatever the hell you want!" Stan was frantic now, "If we run, _right_ now, as fast as we possibly can, we might just have a chance..."

The sound of twigs snapping and branches rustling caught the trio's attention. A shadow darted through the trees, so quickly that the naked eye that blinked would miss it.

"Oh god, it's too late." Stan stepped back from Jorgito again, knife drawn at the ready as panic wedged in his throat, "We're dead. We are totally, totally dead."

"Shut up!" Jorgito raised his weapon, panic beginning to register. Another rustle hit the trees before a flock of birds flew, chattering, to the clouds.

"I don't see anything." The man murmured to Eric, "I say we grab an egg and go."

"Tejeda told us to phone it in." The doctor ventured quietly, footsteps in sync with Stan as they inched backwards, "He specifically ordered against engaging until we regroup."

"Shah!" Jorgito's feelings on the topic were clear in the dismissive wave he threw at them. "We take the egg..." His boots crackled against the leafy ground, "...and _then_ we regroup. Don't!" He whirled around, gun fixed on Stan and Eric as the pair reached the tunnel mouth, "Doc, you're back up. You," Jorgito aimed at Stanley, "take point."

"Me? This is _your_ idea!"

"Breaking your arm is gonna be my idea, too! Now get moving!" He yanked the boy by the shrt and shoved him to the fore.

"Walk."

He did. Stan's mouth was dry and his palms were sweaty as they stalked towards the nests. The songs of the birds were like an ironic symphony, the soundtrack to a masterful horror flick about to unfold.

Against all odds and despite expecting to eaten at any moment, Stan reached the first nest. The eggs were smooth, splotchy ovals bigger than a grown man's skull. They sat, unmoving, basking in the sunlight beginning to break through the overgrowth.

Stan could hear his own breath, feel his blood pounding in his skull.

"You waiting for an invitation?" Jorgito's gun nudged the young man's spine, "Grab one and let's go!"

That was the last straw. Stan turned on the man, face livid. "Go to hell, man! I'm not stealing a goddamn egg for you! You wanna shoot me? Huh? Go ahead!" He grabbed the muzzle of the weapon and pressed it to his chest in what his father would have called a show of 'teenage hysterics'...

Except his father would likely be too busy with his _own_ hysteria if he caught Stan pointing a loaded weapon with a crazy on the trigger end at his own breastbone.

For a minute, the eye-twitching rage on Jorge's face gave Stan reason to believe he might actually pull the trigger.

Stan would never really know, because at that precise moment, a lone Raptor emerged, chattering, onto the scene. He felt it at his back, the hot breath from its wide, hissing mouth raising the hairs on his neck.

The Raptor crowed, arching its long neck as it sounded the alert.

"Behind you! Get down!" Eric yelled, swinging the rifle hanging off his shoulder into action. Jorgito turned and fled shamelessly, abandoning the other two. He ran for the vine-covered tunnel mouth for all he was worth.

Stan's belly hit the dirt, hands cupping the back of his skull as the Raptor leaped smoothly over him. He'd seen something on National Geographic about playing dead...or maybe that only worked with bears.

 _Raptors aren't as stupid_.

Stan watched as the long-tailed beast caught up to Jorgito. Its powerful jaws closed around his right calf and brought him to the ground. Jorgito's scream was blood-curdling. Stan had heard that scream enough times to send anyone to therapy. It never lessened the effect.

Suddenly, Eric was yanking him to his feet.

"Let's get out of here!" The medic insisted.

"We can't! We can't just leave him!" Stan protested, frozen to the spot in horror as the Raptor made fast work of the flailing man beneath it. Jorgito's screams had became muted gurgles.

"He's already dead!" Eric's upper body strength was surprising as he hauled Stan away, "More are coming. We have to go, now!"

"He is _not_ dead! We have to help..." Stan's protest was stifled as Eric whipped Owen's Hero blade out and held it to his throat.

"MOVE!"

Stunned, Stan allowed himself to be tugged along by the medic. Dodging the Raptor's swinging tail, they ran through the tunnel mouth.

* * *

Special Agent Jolene Fisher flashed her FBI badge at the heavy-eyed young man in the doorway.

"Satisfied?" Her voice was huskier these days, a calling card left by long days and late nights overseeing the grizzly cases that came with her promotion. A promotion she wasn't entirely sure that she had earned, knowing it was Owen Grady and Claire Dearing who had brought Henry Wu to justice.

Using up her air miles to check a lead from Dearing's nephews, she figured, was the least that she could do.

Zach Mitchell squinted at the hard-faced, blonde-haired woman before he moved aside, allowing her entrance to the dingy motel room.

"Nice digs." She raised an eyebrow as he shut the door behind her, "Hello, there."

The curly-haired boy on the bed sprung to his feet. "You gotta help us!" He pleaded.

"Not one for small talk, huh?" Jolene turned to Zach, "Your parents know you're out here?"

It was obviously a question Zach had been expecting. He thrust her a crumpled letter with an indifferent expression on his face.

Fisher checked the slip of paper, "This says you're visiting your father. Did he, uh, step out for burgers?"

Zach exchanged a look with his younger brother, "This is just a...pit stop. We're en route."

"In the opposite direction?"

"Did you not hear me on the phone?" The teenager snapped, "Owen and Claire are stuck on Isla Nublar with a dino-trafficking psyco!"

"You might've mentioned that in passing." The agent ran a finger over a dusty chair, nose scrunched in disapproval, "I thought I heard Stanley's name thrown into the mix. Is that correct?"

"Stan got sent a plane ticket by Uncle Owen, but Lowery told us it was a set-up!" Gray interjected anxiously. He was sent a sharp glance by Zach which shut him up.

"Right. Good ol' Lowery." Fisher rolled her eyes, "Remind me again why he chose to contact you."

"Well...he was actually calling Barry. We just sort of...took the call." Zach explained bluntly.

"While he was bleeding in the backseat of your car. Why was that, again?"

"What are you, the Spanish Inquisition? Are you gonna help Claire and Owen or not?"

"A chip off the old block, I see." The agent rifled through her handbag, "I used to wonder what Owen and your aunt could _possibly_ have in common until I realized that _bullheadedness_ seems to run in both their bloodlines."

Zach seethed, "Just...get them off the island." He glanced down at a tug on his sleeve from his brother.

"Don't forget Macey!"

"Will you shut up about her? I already told you, we're not..."

"Who is Macey?" Fisher bent down, her bespoke suit jacket crinkling as she made eye contact with Gray.

"She's a baby triceratops." The boy avoided Zach's scorching glare guiltily, "Someone bought her from the smugglers, but we rescued her and gave her to Barry to take care of until Claire and Owen could..."

"Who bought her?" The woman was not using the usual soft, patronizing tone most authority figures tended to take with the bright young boy. It scored her some brownie points.

"Richard Dougal." Gray's wide eyes were earnest, "I saw Macey at his house and I took her to Owen. But last night, some men broke into their house. They shot Barry and they took her away!"

"Left out a couple details during our little phone call there, huh, Zach?" Jolene straightened and shot the teenager a scowl, "Do you realize how serious this is? You were both witnesses at multiple crime scenes, including an attempted murder! I'm gonna have to book you guys." She pulled out her cell phone.

"What?" Zach raised a hand, "No. Come on. We...we were just victims of coincidence. You know? Two law-abiding citizens just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hey!" He barked at Fisher as she raised her phone to her ear, "Look, you can't waste time on us! You need to get the military, the Feds, the Navy, I don't know, whoever's the most bad-ass and you need to go help Claire and Owen _now_!"

"I can't call in the big guns without evidence, Zach." She explained fiercely, "And a second-hand account of a phone call from Lowery isn't gonna fly with anyone. You two are the only shred of proof I've got to back me up. We need to find that baby dinosaur and the people who shot Barry. It's our only chance at getting Claire and Owen help. So," Fisher raised his eyebrows, "are you boys gonna come back to the office with me, or am I gonna have to bring out the handcuffs?"

The boys exchanged unreadable expressions before the older Mitchell sullenly agreed.

"We'll go with you."

"On _one_ condition!" Gray added vehemently, before both brothers spoke in sync.

"Do _not_ call our parents."

* * *

 _REVIEW. That is all._


	6. Chapter 6

_**My sincerest apologies for how long it took to get this up here. I moved house, which was challenging and took a while to get settled. Plus hubby had an accident at work and I've been battling some potentially scary health issues of my own. But everything is settling down now, thank God, and I took some time to crank out another chapter for you all! Hopefully updates will resume normal frequency. I've been getting some lovely reviews in the meantime! Welcome to all new readers. Please continue to share your thoughts on this crazy little fic with me! It makes all the difference, especially in this somewhat upsetting time xxx - Ty**_

* * *

She came to with a rushing in her ears. White noise pounded in her brain like a phantom jackhammer.

And pain. Everything hurt. _Everywhere_ hurt.

Claire became vaguely aware of her surroundings as her eyes peeled open. Vision still a blur, she struggled to focus on the leafy walls around her. Spokes of sunlight shone through a patchwork of holes in the natural prison.

Panic began to set in. Ignoring the dull pain shooting through her arms, Claire reached above her, rattling the canopy of branches arched into a dome over her prone body. To her relief, they moved aside without much difficulty. Claire scrambled out from underneath them on all fours. She shut her eyes and winced at the silent scream of protest from her body.

Using a nearby tree to pull herself upright, Claire clutched a low branch and looked around. The wilds of Isla Nublar surrounded her, trees saluting her as they bowed in the pleasant breeze. Not a creature was in sight.

It was then that Claire realized she had a strip of cloth wrapped around her head. With a trembling hand, she pulled it free and took in the dried blood dotting the fabric. Claire gingerly ran her fingers across her left temple and let out a sharp noise of pain. Her digits were dark with clotting blood when she held them in front of her alongside the cloth.

Only then did Claire's foggy brain register exactly who the cloth belonged to. And it all came flooding back.

"Owen!" She called out, letting go of the branch and stumbling on bruised, unsteady legs, "Owen?"

A bout of exploration led Claire to a shallow pool that fed off a trickle of mountain water. She fell to her knees, dehydration temporarily winning out over her mounting panic. Cupping her hands, Claire drank deep from the refreshing water before submerging her head completely. Resurfacing, Claire sat back on her knees and ran her hands though her soggy, tangled hair. Slicking it back off her face, she closed her eyes and sighed deeply.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump with a scream.

"Shh!" Owen was bent over her, one finger to his split lip.

"Oh, you scared me!" She leaped at him, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her head in his chest. "Are you alright? Did you..."

"We gotta go." Was his blunt response as he untangled himself from Claire's embrace but kept a firm grip on her hand, "Come on."

She followed him back to the scene of her revival, taking mental inventory of his condition. Thankfully, besides the welts he'd suffered from Tejeda's men and a limp that wasn't there before, Owen seemed relatively healthy.

Claire heard a distant cry and saw Owen heft a rifle he'd obviously recovered from their gondola escape. He scanned the trees sharply before ushering her into the bushes.

Owen reassembled the shroud of vines, leaves and branches Claire had pushed aside. She took her cue from him and crouched low beneath its cover.

"What is it?" She whispered in Owen's ear.

"Tejeda." He murmured back as he poked the muzzle of his gun though an opening in the leaves. "Seems like he and a few of his posse survived your gondola ambush. They've been trackin' us ever since."

Claire caught the lilt in her boyfriend's tone. Warning lights flashed in her still foggy brain, but she ignored them. There were bigger fish to fry. "Did you make all this?" She motioned to the canopy and smiled at his eye-roll of confirmation, "My own private boy scout."

"Yeah, well I ain't a doctor." Owen retorted as he checked the scope on his rifle, "Sure as hell was _wishin_ ' I was when I had to patch you up."

"Well," Claire replied matter-of-factly, "as you can see, I'm perfectly alright, so you clearly did a five-star job of.."

"Can we not talk right now? Kinda need to focus." Owen shifted to his stomach and took a look through his rifle scope.

Chewing at her cheek and silently displeased with the emotional shut-down, Claire sat back on the ground. They stayed that way for just shy of ten minutes before a creature stalked through the bushes.

Peering through the gaps in their makeshift camouflage, Claire and Owen both instantly identified the large dinosaur as an adolescent Packy. Its bulbous skull dipped as it picked at the ground in search of food.

Seizing the moment, Claire broached a fresh topic in a whisper.

"Do you have any idea where we are?"

"Went to take a look around before you came to." Owen replied in hushed voice, eyes and gun trained on the dinosaur, "We're about halfway up the mountain. The Wall ain't far, but we're gonna have to tackle some pretty steep rock faces first."

Her lightly freckled nose crinkled, "Why would we be going to the Wall?"

"I need to find Stan." He adjusted his position slightly as he spoke, still avoiding her gaze, "Figured I'd take you to the old HQ, get you settled somewhere safe before I head back out."

"No, we're sticking together."

"Would you cut the Superwoman crap and take a look at yourself, for once, _objectively_?" Owen snapped, finally gracing her with eye contact, "You can barely walk, let alone keep pace on a hunt, and _I_ need to find my kid before he ends up dead!"

"You don't think I want to find Stan as much as you do?" Claire fumed, "You are _not_ leaving me behind."

"Well I ain't taking you along, so you can huff and puff and blow my house down all you want to." Owen turned away as the Packy rustled closer.

Seething, Claire closed her eyes and forced a breath. She understood Owen's concern, and she certainly had to admit that she was far from at her health's peak. But there was something, a lingering tension and hostility behind his words, that was making her blood boil.

"Are you angry with me because of the gondola lift? Is that what this is about?"

"Jesus, you're as bad as Stanley! What is it with you two and finding drama where there _is_ none?"

"Just answer the question, Owen."

"I am _not_ angry." He stated with a perfectly straight face. Claire's mouth twitched as she glared at him.

"Just...didn't know you were a junkie for skydiving without a parachute, is all."

"Aha!" She stabbed a finger at him triumphantly, and he shushed her for the outburst. "You see? I knew it! _You_ resent me for jumping after you..."

"You mean _falling_ after me at crazy-miles-per-hour? _No_ , no that was _fun_!"

"You know," She wagged a finger between them, " _I_ could come down on _you_ for pushing me off the gondola. But, you see, _I_ am _mature_!"

"Mature?" Owen squinted at her wording.

"Yes, mature! I recognize the difference between necessary risks and blind stupidity, and if you weren't such a _caveman_ sometimes, you might do the same!"

"Oh and what about _you_ , huh?" He retorted, real anger finally beginning to emerge, "That little free-falling stunt you pulled back there was about as _mature_ as Stanley's martyr walk up-creek!"

"Don't tell me that you're mad at _him_ as well!"

"I am _not_ mad!" He seemed frustrated at needing to reiterate, "Just seems everywhere I turn, you two are throwin' yourselves at danger and I'm sorry, I don't like it!"

"I can _not_ believe how hypocritical you're being. Are you _really_ going to lecture me on recklessness when you're the King of..."

" _I_ have got, like, 700 pounds on you and Stan, plus _years_ of Navy training and experience to fall back on!" He wasn't wrong. Which made his attitude all the more annoying to his future fiance.

"Well, I think you're being irrational." She adopted a calm which was, unfortunately, as patronizing as it was fake, "We can't afford the luxury of caution at a time like this. It's counterproductive."

"How about you save the little Masrani act for your future clients?" Owen shook his head, disgusted, "I'm going to scout a course for our trek back down the mountain."

"You can't!" Claire protested as her boyfriend shook free of the canopy, "There's still a Packy right outside."

"Damn thing left five minutes ago!" He called over his shoulder as he stormed away, "You might've noticed if you weren't so busy being _right_!"

Claire ground her teeth against each other and rolled her eyes.

 _Men_.

* * *

Eric pushed back a palm leaf to survey the path before them.

"There's no sign of it." He was referring to the Raptor who'd caught them red-handed at the nesting grounds, "It might not be tracking us after all. Maybe it decided to stay with the eggs." Afer only silence greeted the hopeful hypothesis, the doctor turned around to find Stanley seated on a rock, head buried in his hands.

"Are you alright?" Eric approached the young man hesitantly.

"Yeah, sorry to disappoint you," Stan mumbled, eyes squinted shut tightly as he rocked his head back, "but I'm peachy."

"I am disappointed that you're trying to fool a medical professional with that ridiculous display of bravado." The doctor's discerning eyes took in Stan's posture, weighing the symptoms, "Do you have a migraine?"

"Just a little dizzy spell." The teenager admitted through gritted teeth, "I get them sometimes. Nothing to freak out about."

"You seem to be in a significant amount of pain. Are these spells accompanied by nausea?"

Stan opened his eyes to scowl, "If I say yes, will you dial back the third-degree? Your voice is really grating."

Eric moved closer, extending a hand, "May I?" He paused when Stan flinched. "I didn't drag you away from that Raptor only to kill you myself."

"Like you _could_." Stan's eyes rolled shut as another wave of pain assaulted him. He gave the medic a scowl. "Just...don't try anything."

The doctor examined Stan's pupils with a drag of his thumb.

"I feel like you should buy me dinner before we get this intimate."

"Have you suffered any recent head injuries?" Eric continued his ministrations amidst the chatter of the jungle.

"Smashed my head open a few months back. Docs said I'm all good now, though."

The man tilted Stan's head forward, running his fingers across the thick, hideous scar. "This looks severe. How exactly did it happen?"

"I fell down the stairs. Look, I feel fine now, so how about we just..."

"How often do these bouts of dizziness and nausea occur?" Eric wasn't finished.

Stan rolled his eyes, "I dunno. Sometimes they're days apart. Other times I'll get four in one morning. It's unpredictable."

"And what has your doctor said about it? Have you had an MRI?"

"Okay, we _really_ need to keep moving." Stan pushed off the rock, stepping away from the medic. "Ugh. This thing is just...suffocating." He pulled off his filthy hoodie, stained with Jorgito's blood, and tossed it aside. Eric blocked his path.

"You haven't told a doctor." His tone was accusatory, "Have you even told your father?"

"No! Okay? No, I _haven't_ told a doctor or my dad or Hello freaking magazine!" Stan snapped, "And you know why? Because I got enough going on in my life right now without getting holed up in the kiddie ward and stuck full of needles! Which is _exactly_ what's gonna happen if Owen - who, despite his somewhat threatening persona, is actually the male personification of a Mother Hen - finds out I'm getting headaches! Now can we please just _drop_ it?"

"You don't seem to realize the severe implications these kind of symptoms can have!" Eric insisted, unfazed, "Post-concussion migraines like the ones you're experiencing can be a prelude to hemorrhaging or worse!"

" _You_ don't understand what it feels like to be a walking, talking burden!" Stan yelled all of a sudden, "I got dumped on Owen's doorstep when my mom died after six months of being tossed around like a time bomb! Half the reason Owen kept me was because it was him or the state, and the other half was some weird attempt at teaching me a lesson!"

"I don't see what any of this has to do with..."

"Him and Claire were in the thick of a huge Masrani clean-up and the last thing Owen needed was to get saddled with a kid!" Stan continued to rant, the feelings he had shared with no one but himself for months finally bursting free.

"This is all completely irrelevant to the..."

"And you know," Stan interrupted, strung out and oblivious, "it's not like I didn't try to get out of his way or anything. Because I did! I tried. I was gonna emancipate myself, but _nooo_. Owen was _way_ too old-school for his thick, dumb skull to process _that_ idea, so what happens? I almost get us both killed like a bazillion times, I got Claire and Owen arrested by the feds when they were the only chance this island had and then, when I tried to fix it, I ended up unconscious in the Mosasaur tank!"

Eric edged closer , "Stanley...this is not the time or place to..."

"Then, as if that wasn't enough, I almost got him killed _again_ when he jumped in after me! Not to mention the fact I just happen to be the reason he and Claire got dragged back for Round Three with Isla Nublar!" The young man waved his hands, "But for some reason, after everything I did to convince him we were better off apart, Owen _insists_ on keeping me around. Stanley freaking Simmons, the moody kid with the dead mom and the giant list of issues who he doesn't know from Adam! Just one more weight on Owen's shoulders, right? Well, not _me_ , pal! From now on, _Stan_ takes care of Stan, you got that?"

"Yes." Eric, seeing that Stan could not be reasoned with in his current state (and deciding this was _Owen's_ problem), hastily concurred, "I can see that you are handling this situation on your own and, as a medical professional, will uphold patient confidentiality on this subject from now on."

Obviously embarrassed by his own emotional outburst, Stan straightened his clothing with a haughty nod and a throat-clear. Throat clearing always seemed to work for Owen. He marched determinedly off before retracing his steps only moments later.

"We were going _this_ way."

Shaking his head, Eric hurried after Stan. Rain clouds began to form, a gray mass swelling in the sky. The rumble of thunder clapped in the distance like an beating drum.

Dusk had settled by the time the pair returned to the spot where they had parted ways with Tejeda's company. Stan looked around the river bank, eyes peeled for any sharp-toothed predators.

"That storm looks like it will bring heavy rainfall." Eric squinted at the gathering clouds, "The river may break from the bank. We need to find higher ground."

"We need to _find_ the other _group_." Stan replied stubbornly. "They were following the north-bound tracks. If we hurry, we can get a bearing before the rain washes out the trail. What?" He snapped at the shifty look Eric was sporting, "You got someplace else to be or something?"

"The boats." The medic replied, "If we walk through the night, we could reach them by noon tomorrow and go back to Costa Rica before they even notice."

"What?" Stan was thoroughly confused, "What do you mean, they wouldn't notice? There's at least two people guarding those boats. They'd phone it in!"

"Not if they were held at gunpoint." Eric hefted his weapon suggestively.

A light-bulb flicked on above Stan's head. "You want out, don't you? From Tejeda's team. That's why you let that Raptor kill your buddy!"

"Jorgito was no friend of mine!"

"Yeah, well, _we_ ain't partners _either_ , pal!" The teenager declared, "You wanna ditch the crazy, be my guest. I'm not leaving without Claire and Owen!"

"If we manage to escape, we can alert the proper authorities and have them home in _no_ time!"

"When Tejeda has half of Puentarenas in his pocket?" Stan scoffed incredulously, "Good luck with _that_ , man!"

A flurry of unsettling noises sent a flock of birds skirting from their nests. Eric eyed the trees - and the heavy sky - nervously.

"You should go ahead." Stanley read the man's face with an impassive look of his own, "This isn't my first rodeo."

"If your father were here, what would he say to that?" The medic tried one last-ditch attempt at persuading the stubborn youth.

"'Shut up and keep moving'." Stan motioned towards the creek, "Pretty sound advice, if you ask me. Now, beat it."

Eric pursed his lips, obviously unhappy with the young man's decision, "How will you find them?"

"Head North with what's left of the tracks until the rain floods them out. If I don't see any sign of them by then, I'll clear the Wall and hole up in the Park." Stan was quite pleased with his strategy. It had _Owen_ written all over it and he was confident his father would be proud of his quick thinking. Not that Stan cared.

He didn't.

"I wish I could dissuade you." Eric rifled through his backpack, "But I can see you are determined. Attempting to force you would be fruitless. Here you go." He extended the Hero knife, "I'm guessing you will need this."

Stan snatched it up as though it were a lifeline in a storm. Only once the item was tucked safely away in his belt did he regain his haughty composure.

"Well," He nodded curtly at Eric, "I suppose I should wish you good luck. Not that you deserve it. I just want you to make it off this island and send some help, so...I guess you need to not die for that to happen."

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" The medic graciously ignored the grudge Stan was obviously (and not without reason) still holding, "Your chances of reuniting with your father are..."

"...better than the odds of you not getting _eaten_." The young man finished tersely, "If you actually manage to get a chopper sent out here, tell them I'm hiding in the control room."

* * *

Light drops of rain were beginning to stain the rocks as Claire and Owen made the laborious trek down the mountain. It was slow going, the tension between the pair stagnating their usually effortless teamwork. Any offers of help Owen made were stoically rejected by Claire, who was determined to prove herself as capable as he apparently deemed himself.

This not only slowed progress considerably, but served to further aggravate an already pissed-off Owen. After the fourth time Claire lost her footing due to injury and nearly tumbled off a cliff, Owen lost it.

"You know what?" He hauled the stubborn redhead to her feet, "That's it."

"Excuse me? There was a _root_ , and if you hadn't...hey!" She squealed as she found herself, for the second time in a month, thrown over Owen's shoulder. "Owen! This is crazy! You can't just..."

"Look, we tried it your way first - like always." He replied as he continued down the path, "Now we get to try it _my_ way."

"Put me down, you big Neanderthal! You're going to trip and then you're going to drop me!"

"If only there was some kind of compromise we could settle on - like, I don't know, you letting me help you every now and then." Owen paused in his tracks and waited for her response. Claire's silence reeked of resentment.

"Nope? Well, I'd best keep moving, then..."

"Okay, okay!" She snapped as he made to continue their trek, "I'll let you _help_ me. Now will you put me down?"

He obliged her, setting Claire on her feet in front of him. She pinned him with a glare that had reduced grown men to quivering heaps at board meetings.

"You wanna hit me right now, don't you?" Owen queried bluntly.

"Resorting to brute force is immature. And some of us are grown-ups." Claire held her nose high, straightened her ruffled clothing, and strode past the man.

She retraced her steps with a march moments later, "We were going _this_ way."

Having reached a temporary truce, they proceeded to make double time down the rest of the rock. Reaching the bottom just as the rain picked up and the sun dropped low, Owen and Claire debated making camp for the night.

"There's no shelter besides the trees for miles," Claire had argued, "so the only safety measure we could bank on would be a fire."

"So we make a fire." Owen was worried about the toll their trek was taking on his girlfriend.

"We might as well send up flares. Tejeda would be onto our location in an instant!" Claire was confused about the fact that her normally-rational boyfriend wasn't the one pointing out the obvious.

After a long silence - during which Owen's worry grew and Claire's confusion waned - the two continued to head for the Wall. Owen kept his gun close and his girlfriend closer, his demeanor growing anxious as both the rain and the darkness fell heavy.

They were a mile shy of the Wall when they heard it - the telltale scuffling of something large and dangerous approaching rapidly through the foliage.

Owen barely had time to raise his rifle when it burst into their path. It was a Raptor - large and lean and cat-like in the moonlight. Rain dribbled off its open jaw as it shrieked at them.

"Oh my god." Claire felt her heart in her throat as she gripped Owen's arm. The Raptor, identifiable by its build as an adolescent male, clicked and warbled as it advanced steadily. Its razor-sharp claws splayed in front of it as the Raptor bared its teeth at them.

"I don't think it's one of Blue's." Claire breathed as they backed up slowly.

Owen said nothing. His eyes were focused on the beast at the smart end of his rifle, finger pressed light against the trigger.

Claire flinched as the Raptor shrieked at them again, muscles coiling under its dappled hide. It was preparing to lunge.

"So...I think you should shoot. Just _shoot_!"

"Which _one_?" Owen snapped, and it was then that Claire realized another Raptor was standing to their left. She could hear its heavy breath over the sound of her thumping heart.

"Okay. Okay, so...don't panic." Claire whispered, pep-talking herself more than Owen, "We'll just...climb a tree."

"And when they climb up after us?"

A third Raptor appeared to the right, completing the triangular ambush perimeter. All three were advancing slowly, but steadily.

"Well...can't you communicate with them? You know...use that clicky thing you have?" Claire was growing desperate.

"My 'clicky thing' got lost in the fall." Owen hissed, switching his gun between the Raptors as they closed in, "Besides, it's not a communication device; it's a system! Only Blue would get it!"

"Oh, really?" Claire chose that exact moment to get huffy about proving someone wrong. She reached down and scooped up two rocks from the mud.

Owen hazarded a brief glance at his determined partner, "What are you doing?" He demanded, dumbfounded as she began tapping the rocks together sporadically.

"I'm _clicking_." She replied matter-of-factly, clanging the rocks loudly in the direction of each of the Raptors. To her credit, the animals paused mid-step, the cacophony of staccato noises seeming to confuse them.

"See?" Claire continued banging, "It's working. Looks like you're not the only one who can communicate with..." She was interrupted by a loud shriek from the adolescent male Raptor.

"You want communication?" Owen grabbed her arm and bolted, "That was Raptor for 'it's chowtime'! _Go_!"

They made a sharp turn, running for all they were worth. The sodden earth gave out under Claire's feet and she fell with a shriek of surprise. Owen half-slid, half-leaped after her, a current of filthy rain water washing them down a steep slope. Mercifully, it was a fairly smooth course, and they landed in a heap of soft mud.

"Hey," Owen took Claire's elbows as she clambered to her feet, "you okay?"

She nodded, lips set tight against the pain from her previous injuries.

"We gotta go. Come on." They ran quickly to one of the giant fig trees gracing the Park's wood. The roots laced together like gnarled, knotted fingers, cupping Claire and Owen in wooden hands as they hid from their pursuers.

Owen poked the muzzle of his rifle through an opening in the roots, taking in the distant shrieks of the Raptors, "Hopefully that mud bath masked our scent. We might actually have a chance at losing them."

Claire was about to respond, when she felt hot breath on her neck. Something snorted behind her, nudging at her hair with a wet, cold snout. Owen was frozen beside her, stock-still and rigid as he took in their new visitor.

"Don't. Move." He mouthed the words to Claire, who had shut her eyes tightly against the panic crawling on her skin. Owen inched his weapon around, his movements excruciatingly slow.

The creature that had crept up on the pair so gracefully was Blue. And the Raptor was examining Claire with alarming scrutiny - the kind that made one wonder if dinosaurs were in the habit of playing with their food before they ate it.

Raptors certainly were. But just as Owen was facing up to the fact that he might have to shoot his Beta, Blue snorted into Claire's rust-colored hair and stepped away.

A tear escaped the corner of Claire's eyes as she opened them, white as a sheet but bravely having never uttered a sound. She watched as Blue arched her long neck over the roots to inspect Owen, who lowered his gun slowly.

"Hey, girl." He uttered softly as Blue's nostrils flared. She poked her snout around his jaw, his hair, both sides of his neck. Giant jaws with killer teeth brushed against Owen's stubbled cheeks. He flinched, but didn't pull away.

For a moment, they thought Blue had forgotten. The powerful beast leaned back on her haunches and clicked in her throat, cocking her head as though deciding how best to devour her prey.

Then, Blue leaned in again - and nudged her giant head up under Owen's chin in a calculated, gentle move.

Owen had just moved his hand up to rest on Blue's long neck when a shriek made them jump.

The Raptors had caught up to them. The male leaped onto a tall root, hissed at them and sprung.

Blue's tail swiped across his path, sending him skidding into the mud a good ten feet away. She bared her teeth and claws and sent a loud squawk echoing throuh the air as she faced her rival.

"Behind you!" Claire screamed at Owen, who whirled and let fly a bullet at the second Raptor as it charged them from the rear. The beast lurched and staggered, blood dripping from its neck. The third Raptor sprang at Blue from the foliage, knocking her onto the ground.

"Run!" Owen yelled at Claire, but she needed little prompting. They both bolted, tearing up a path away from the skirmish. Owen turned and fired a shot at the third Raptor, catching it in the head. The injured one had remained to gang up on Blue.

A cry for help - Owen recognized the call - from Blue froze him in his tracks. He stopped, heart strings pulling as he watched her back away from the two advancing Raptors.

"Owen!" Claire yelled over the downpour of rain, "Come on!"

He couldn't.

The protective instincts with which Owen had been endowed (or cursed) overruled his common sense. The man leveled his rifle and open-fired on one the Raptors closing in on Blue.

His shot grazed the beast's throat as it jerked away. A spray of blood stained the tree roots. The bullet had touched an artery, kissed it too lightly. The bleeding Raptor took a flying leap at Owen, pivoting mid-air to swing its tail into his chest with lightening speed. Owen took the hit, flew backwards in the mud with no air in his lungs.

"Owen!" Claire ran to his side, picking up a fallen branch and swinging it at the Raptor's head as it moved to strike. The rotten wood broke against the animal's thick hide, but Claire had aimed for the bullet wound on its neck. And she had hit her mark. The Raptor limped backwards, hissing at her as blood rushed down its body in a river of red.

Owen had recovered his senses enough to fire off another round from his position on the ground. He hit the other Raptor still attacking Blue in the leg, unable to get a clear shot without risking injury to Blue.

Claire helped him to his feet, watching as Blue ravaged her opponent, jaws clenched around its injured leg. She tossed the Raptor aside and hopped atop a root, hissing at the pair with her claws splayed before her.

The Raptor with the neck wound sank onto its haunches, breath coming in pants as it bled out on the ground. Its comrade shrieked at Blue furiously before turning tail and fleeing into the trees.

Blue approached Owen and Claire, yellow eyes blinking and head cocking. She clawed the ground and then clucked in her throat impatiently.

Owen got the message, grabbing Claire's hand in his own.

"Come on."

"Where?"

"I don't know yet. She just wants us to follow her."

"But...I mean...shouldn't we keep heading for the Wall?" Claire protested as they walked rapidly behind the Raptor, "It seems she's taking us in the opposite direction!"

"Hammond's velociraptors are smarter than primates." He reminded her, "Trust me, wherever she's leading us, it's somewhere we want to go."

Claire doubted that immensely, but had the good grace to keep it to herself. Her efforts were rewarded when, not twenty minutes later, Blue had led them to a cave obscured by weeds and giant roots. It was cramped, damp and filthy, but it was shelter. Claire had barely cleared a spot on the muddy floor or rock before her eyelids gave in.

The last thing she saw that night was Blue standing in the mouth of the cave, bathed in moonlight as she kept watch - and Owen at her side, one hand resting on her flank as though it were the shoulder of a long-lost friend.

* * *

Zach Mitchell startled out of sleep, his jerky movements waking Grey, whose snoring head was resting on his brother's knee. The two brothers rubbed their eyes and straightened their clothing as Jolene Fisher entered the office where they'd been consigned to a faux leather sofa.

"Sorry I took so long." The agent had obviously been nursing multiple coffees, her movements jittery as she handed both boys a McDonalds paper bag, "Breakfast."

"What did you find out?" Zach queried as Grey dug into the greasy offering.

"Well, we got an ID on the guys who took Macey. Tracked them back to one of Dougal's estates and hauled him in for questioning."

"What about Macey?" Grey demanded, "Did you find her? Is she okay?"

"We found her alright. My partner's slacks are still covered in dino-crap, but we got her to a secure location until she can be transported back home." Fisher sat down in her swivel chair, "The big cheeses want to keep this under wraps for as long as possible. I don't have to tell you boys what kind of panic a case like this could cause if the media got ahold of it."

Zach nodded, "Did you find out who's got Claire and Owen?"

"Richard Dougal is a rock but," Fisher smiled wryly, "I'm the ocean. Took all night but I got a name out of him. Did Lowery ever mention somebody called Diego Tejeda?"

"No." Zach rubbed his face, exhausted, "But Claire and Owen went to Puentarenas to do some digging, so you might pick up some leads over there."

"Somebody called Jorge Lozano was meeting Stan at the airport." Grey piped up between mouthfuls of McMuffin, "You could check the security footage or something."

Jolene nodded, "It's a start. I'll fly out there this afternoon, see if I can't root out our mole."

"You mean Lowery?" Zach raised an eyebrow, "You don't think he's gone into hiding by now? I mean, he's obviously mixed up in all of this and he made it pretty clear he didn't want you knowing he's involved..."

"Of course he didn't. The man knows aiding and abetting felons like these could get him a long stint in the can." Fisher snorted in disgust.

"Well, I think I should come with you." Zach stood up, brushing crumbs off his jeans from his younger sibling's messy breakfast, "Lowery trusts me. I could get him to meet with me, then you could jump him..."

"Thanks, but no thanks." Fisher deflected bluntly, "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't take a minor on a trip like that without parental consent. Which you don't have."

"Well, what if i got it?"

"They'd agree to let you accompany a total stranger, fed or no, to the same place where Claire and Owen _and_ Stanley disappeared?" The woman smiled wanly, "I'm no expert on parenting, but I _think_ they'd have a problem with it."

They _would_ have a problem with it. A _very_ big problem with it. But _Zach_ had a very big problem with the idea of being benched while Stanley Simmons was getting all the action.

And, of course, he wanted to rescue Claire and Owen. That was the _important_ thing.

"Besides," Fisher finished, "your folks are already on their way. I've already called and filled them in on the situation. Don't..." She lifted a hand as both boys flew off the handle, "...worry. I left out the juicier details. Didn't want you to be grounded for _too_ long."

"They're _both_ coming?" Grey's wide eyes targeted his groaning brother, "We're so dead."

"You've done your country a great service." The agent reminded them as she rifled through a pile of papers, "I'm sure your parents will take that into account."

"You know what _you_ need to take into account?" Zach leaped to his feet, "The fact that you wouldn't _have_ a case if it wasn't for us! How about a little gratitude for the 'great service' rendered instead of sending us to the sidelines when _our_ intel is what got you on the playing field to _begin_ with?"

"Yeah! What about..."

"Go get a soda." Zach interrupted his little brother to shove a dollar in his hand in irritation.

"But I..."

"Get a soda _now_!"

" _Okay_!" Offended, Grey scampered off before his brother decided to give him a helping hand - across the back of his head.

Agent Fisher rolled her eyes impatiently, "If this is where the grown-ups talk, you're still a few years off-target, Zach."

"Just...let me come with you to Costa Rica." He tried one last-ditch attempt at bargaining, "You know I can help smoke Lowery out faster, and every minute _you_ spend getting evidence to mount a rescue is a minute _my_ family spends running for their lives!"

"Zach," She raised her eyebrows as she clicked her briefcase shut, "I know you want to help them. And believe me, I do too. But you've done your part already." Fisher stood up, patting his shoulder as she headed for the door, "Time for me to do mine."

Despite his fiery resolve and quick thinking, Fisher still thought Zach was more Mitchell than Dearing.

Fisher thought wrong.

* * *

Dawn on Isla Nublar was a much less cozy affair. Claire awoke after a restless sleep with a crick in her neck and an unbearable ache everywhere else. At least the Central American sun was out in all its gentle morning glory. Its glow warmed Claire's aching bones - and lit up the silhouette of the not-so-gentle giant of a dinosaur pacing outside impatiently.

Claire forced herself to rise, wincing in the bright morning light. She raised a hand level with her eyes and squinting at the sight before her.

Owen was with Blue and the two seemed to be - for lack of a better word - playing.

Or...training. Claire wasn't sure which it was.

The fiercesome Raptor was leaping neatly into the air to catch sticks which Owen would toss at her. Instead of the bringing the stick back, Blue would shred it to bits with her powerful teeth. But before she had finished with one, Owen would hurl another at her, and another. The Raptor's sharp senses were obviously on high-alert, her movements quick and calculated.

Owen turned as she approached. The bruising on his face had begun to fade, and the swelling was non-existent. He waved a stick at her in greeting.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" She protested.

"You needed to rest." Owen replied tersely, unapologetically as he fiddled with the stick. Sensing a fight brewing, Claire smothered her irritation in practicality - her usual tactic.

"We should keep moving. Tejeda's people probably got an early start on tracking us."

"I doubt they'll make much progress." He squinted at the sun, "Rain's washed out any tracks we might've left. Our little mudslide last night took us down-valley. We're on a home run for the Wall if we keep our bearings."

"Still heading for the Wall, then." Claire's tone was neutral, "Don't you think since Blue is with us, we have a better chance of..."

"She's with us for _now_." Owen's Henley was stained with dried mud as he finally faced his girlfriend, "But she could bolt at any time. We don't want to get stuck south of the Wall on our lonesome in broad daylight."

"I..." She began, but was interrupted by a squawk from. The Raptor clawed at the ground impatiently, cocking her head at Owen before jerking it away.

Owen narrowed his eyes, "What?" He approached slowly, careful of the formidable dinosaur as she continued to squawk at him agitatedly, "What are you trying to say?"

Blue bounded a few meters into the trees and then skidded to a halt. She twisted back to face Owen and shrieked at him again.

"Maybe she wants us to follow her." Claire suggested.

"Maybe." Owen agreed grimly, "But where?"

The redhead slid her arm inside of Owen's, "Somewhere we want to go."

He looked down at her, the hard lines in his face rising in a tender smile as he gave her head a kiss.

Peace, however fleeting, had been declared at last.

A distant roar echoed in the air. Although miles off, both recognized it instantly. It was the T-rex.

"Well, _that_ can't be good." Owen's grip moved to Claire's arm, "Someone sounds hungry. Yeah, we're _coming_!" Owen snapped as Blue shrieked angrily at them, claws tearing at the dust, "Jesus, woman, hold your horses!"

"What is it with you and attracting strong, powerful females?" Claire teased as they began to trudge after Blue.

"You mean 'stubborn and impatient'?" He clarified, "No idea!"

A second roar floated faintly on the breeze as they jogged after Blue.

"Seems like she's moving away. Sounds pretty pissed off, too." Owen muttered, "I wouldn't be the thing she's chasing for all the money in the world."

* * *

Stanley Simmons ran for all he was worth, leaping over fallen logs as he cleared the treeline. In front of him, stretched out across a vast plain of grass was the Wall - and safety.

Behind him was an enormous dinosaur who wanted him for breakfast.

Terror pumping in his chest and fueling his adrenaline, Stan made a mad break for the grey line of concrete. He spotted a sentry tower and knew they had through-access to the Park...

If he could only reach it.

A ferocious roar rattled the trees, the ground vibrating with the T-Rex's heavy feet as it pursued him. Stan had a good fifty-meter lead on her, but he knew his comparatively pathetic leg-span negated said lead.

It was times like these he wished he'd put in more effort with his gym coach Mr. Murphy - even if the man _was_ morbidly obese and smoked like a chimney.

 _Stop thinking and run, you idiot!_

Stan didn't like the fact that the little voice in his head had turned into a not-so-little voice which sounded suspiciously like Owen.

The T-Re roared again, the ground thundering underneath her. Stan began to zig-zag, that annoying inner-Owen-voice catching up with him again.

 _It takes something as big as a T-Rex a good few minutes to get their bodies at the right momentum for a high-speed chase. If you start running fast enough, chances are you'll get a good head start._

 _I_ had _a head start!_ Stan argued with his father/self, _I had fifty meters on her!_

 _Well, you won't keep it. That thing can run up to 18 miles per hour, and you ain't exactly Ussain Bolt._

 _Never_ wanted _to be until five minutes ago!_ Stan huffed, doing a sharp curve and beginning to run left after the T-Rex veered right.

 _Lugging all that extra weight will tire her out much faster than you. If you keep going, there's a good chance she won't bother chasing such a tiny meal._

 _I'm not tiny._ Stan complained inwardly, the pounding in his chest beginning to physically hurt. The Wall loomed in the distance , rippling in the heatwaves like a desert mirage.

 _You_ are _tiny. You're like a Dino Hors d'Oeuvre. You're knee-high to a grasshopper. Maybe if you ate a little more..._

"Oh my god, SHUT UP!"

Stan's yell was overshadowed by a new, unfamiliar roar. He stumbled, tripping as he almost fell in craning his neck around to see. A new player had intruded on the field, lumbering out from the treeline only meters from Stan.

It was a full-grown Suchomimus. The long-snouted dinosaur looked emaciated, wild eyes pinned on Stanley as it began to bound towards him.

Stanley's life flashed before his eyes. The Owen-esque voice in his head had suddenly run out of commentary. He felt his feet turn to sludge, fear paralyzing his senses as the large jaws, claws and swishing tail came closer by the second.

Then the T-Rex caught up. Finally. Not a moment too soon. It veered off course from Stan and charged the Suchomimus full-on. The giant scale-back skidded with the collision, stumbling before it swung its long, impressive tail at the Tyrannosaurus.

Stan narrowly avoided getting hit in the face by the tail, only to nearly get stepped on by the T-Rex as it reeled from the attack. Dust and greenery flew around him in a cloud as he rolled to and fro in an attempt to avoid the giants doing battle.

Between the crushing footsteps, swiping tails and snapping jaws, Stan somehow found his 'tiny' stature of use and army-crawled out of the fray. The T-Rex had closed its jaws around the Suchomimus' neck and was attempting to drag it to the ground. Stan didn't bother sticking around to see who won. Instead he high-tailed it to the sentry tower, shoved open the broken door and literally dove inside. He slammed it shut with a kick of his feet and took a moment to catch his breath.

Then the shakes came. And, despite himself, the tears. All of which were compounded by a spectacular migraine which assaulted Stan's already fraying nerve endings.

He grit his teeth. "Not now, goddamnit!" _Come on, Stanley_. The voice was back. Stan was on all fours, heaving breaths to stave off the nausea.

 _Get up_. "Get UP!" Stan yelled the urgent words out loud, forcing his limbs to action. The young man staggered, bruised and filthy but very much alive, through the sentry tower and out into the crumbling ruins of Jurassic World.

* * *

 _ **That's all for now, folks! Please review, even if its just a few words. It makes so much difference. And send good vibes! - Ty**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Been a long while. No excuses (well, my country decided to leave the EU...which stirred up a shit storm. So, there's that). I needed me some good old-fashioned dinosaur crazy to cope with life lately. For anyone who can relate, here's a long overdue update. More of the Mitchell boys especially for Katarina, as per usual. By the way, I always try to do basic research when stretching the bounds of realism, but Hollywood has long embraced a sense of the dramatic which we as a public have grumbled about occasionally but enjoy (or at least tolerate) at the end of the day. So bear with any questionable events, dear readers. And welcome to the new folk! Everyone leave a review! New rule ;) - Tyler**_

* * *

Agent Jolene Fisher adjusted her headset aboard the cargo chopper she'd been loaned. The bulky old Chinook was part of a bought-out fleet an old pal of hers used to ferry trade goods offshore. It had meant calling in a number of valuable favors she would have preferred to save for other occasions, but the time lost on travelling via a commercial airline could mean the difference between life and death for Claire and Owen.

Plus, Fisher hated Business Class. Drunk execs always tried to hit on her in Business Class.

Her pilot announced that they were coming into Puntarenas. Fisher leaned over for a better view of the glistening port city. Heat waves sizzled above the skyline, distorting the rooftops in a lazy roll. She listened absently as the pilot bantered with the Costa Rican air control in Spanish before the chopper begun its descent.

Before the blades had even stopped spinning, Agent Fisher was out of the chopper and onto the rooftop of Los Sueños Marriott. A valet welcomed her in crisp English. She thanked him. He offered to take her bag. She declined.

He still got a tip. Fisher was big on tipping - in fact, she was big on tipping _big_ if she needed information.

"I...ah...I am really not supposed to disclose our clients' personal infor...mation." The young man, a wisp of a mustache sprouting on his upper lip, looked down at the hundred dollar bill being pressed into his hand.

Fisher found herself being ushered discreetly into the room where Owen and Claire were still officially checked in.

"Ten minutes." Pepe, the valet, whispered as he mopped at his sweaty brow and left her to her business.

Fisher sighed in satisfaction. _If only everyone was as industrious as Pepe._

The room still bore the telltale signs of occupancy. Clothing strewn here and there, a toothbrush on the counter. Fisher pursed her lips at Owen's electric shaver still plugged into the wall socket. She wondered if he ever actually shaved.

So engrossed was the FBI agent in her scouring that she completely missed the fact that several stories above her, a third passenger, having awaited the absence of both Fisher and her pilot, was about to disembark from the chopper.

That third passenger was, naturally, Zach Mitchell.

Sneaking aboard the ample chopper had proved challenging but not impossible, largely due to that fact that Agent Fisher was operating independently. Her trust issues paid off for Zach in the form of virtually zero security on the tarmac, five miles away from her office and any possible federal surveillance.

A quick trip to the bathroom had bought Zach enough time to ditch his federal babysitters and trail Fisher via public transport. He'd left Gray with a hazy outline of his plan and the promised use of his cherished X-box until he returned.

Phase two of Zach's outlandish plan had been to swipe a hanger assistant's cap and jacket while a red-eyed man left them unattended to clock out for the day. Heart racing in his chest, Zach had then joined the ground crew prepping Agent Fisher's chopper take-off. They were standard industrial workers disgruntled at having been called in last-minute. They were even less pleased to be taking orders from their sharp-tongued passenger, and had been too busy quibbling with Fisher to pay Zach any mind. He'd found a spot in the cramped cargo hold and sat tight.

Freedom had never felt so good. The long-limbed adolescent stretched vigorously as he backed away from the chopper. Sensing eyes on him and spying several confused hotel staff members, Zach tipped his stolen cap, patted the machine's sturdy hide, and gave them a thumbs-up.

"Engine's working great!"

It was at that precise moment that Zach received the shock of his life. A short, wiry figure crawled out from underneath the row of rear passenger seats. A mop of curly brown hair ratted out the stowaway before the young boy's face did.

Gray flashed a winsome smile at the hotel staff, "So that's a wrap on the life-jacket count." He straightened up with noticeable difficulty as he clapped Zach on the back, "What say we hit the mini bar and put a rush on maintenance first thing in the morning?"

Zach's lips pressed together so tightly that they paled. He grabbed his brother by the scruff of his over-sized jacket and hauled him down the first flight of stairs he saw. Mutters and calls for the boys to return brought the foreboding notion the hotel staff had serious doubts about the legitimacy of their employment.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?" Zach demanded furiously as both brothers clambered down the stairs, "You know what? Don't answer that!"

"'Cause it's a stupid question?"

"No, 'cause it'll _piss me off_!" Zach hissed, poking his head through a fire exit door and scanning the hotel hallway, "I can't believe you did this. You are _so_ dead!"

"You didn't _really_ think I was gonna let you go alone, did you?" Gray protested stubbornly, lowering his voice to a whisper only when his brother hushed him, "This is _my_ problem too, remember?"

"You're damn right it's your problem. I am _not_ getting caught because I have to lug you around. That," Zach steered his brother's shoulders to face the hallway and pointed, "is Claire and Owen's room. I just saw Fisher go in there. Now you are gonna march right over there and turn yourself in or..."

"Or what?" Gray demanded, "You'll make me?"

"If I have to."

"If she sees you, you're toast. What, are you gonna ring the bell and run?"

"Something like that, yeah!"

Gray crossed his arms, "I'll scream."

Zach glared down at his obstinate sibling, "I'll cover your mouth."

"I'll lick your hand."

"You're disgusting."

"You're not leaving me behind!"

The two brothers remained locked in a stand-off for several minutes before Zach finally conceded with a roll of his eyes.

"Fine. I'm just here to smoke out Lowery anyway. Shouldn't take too long, then we can head back." The oldest Mitchell glanced sharply down, "But if you're gonna tag along, you'd better stick close and do what I say, you got that?"

"Last time I listened to you, I ended up in a glass ball getting chewed on by the I-Rex!" Gray pointed out.

"That was an..unfortunate coincidence." Zach argued.

"We had to jump off a waterfall!"

"Also my idea. See? Listening to me is a _good_ thing. Now let's get going." Zach once again took his brother by the shoulders, this time to steer him back towards the staircase.

It was time to find Lowery.

* * *

Claire started at the sound of a rustle behind her. She whirled around, spied the exotic bird flapping away, and placed a hand on her racing heart.

"Why so jumpy?" Owen teased with a perfectly straight face, "It's just a stroll through the jungle."

"64 million years ago." She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, "How are your ribs?"

"Peachy. How's the leg?"

"Peachy." Two could play that game. "Look, we've been at it non-stop for hours and we've lost Blue for the third time in ten minutes. We need to find some food and get some..." Claire opened her eyes at the item her significant other was offering her, "What _is_ that?"

"Tree bark." He stated as though it were obvious, "Nature's meat and potatoes."

"Nature's meat and potatoes _are_ meat and potatoes. I am _not_..." Claire clarified with a finger as Owen waved the bark at her, "going to eat that."

"Okay." Her boyfriend didn't seem fazed. Instead he had a short browse through the foliage while Claire watched with folded arms and the occasional eye-roll. Owen returned shortly with a pale leafy flower.

"Here you go."

"And what is _that_?"

"It's a Dutchman's Pipe." Again, the chiding in his voice suggested she really ought to know such things, "Go ahead. It's edible."

"Ugh." Claire grimaced as she accepted the plant, 'It smells like... rotten meat."

"Yeah that's 'cause it eats flies." Owen turned to continue.

"Flies?!"

"Great source of protein!" He called back.

"Just..." Claire tossed the plant aside in disgust and caught up to Owen, "give me the tree bark."

"You sure? I think I saw a Yucha plant back there."

"Just..." She snatched the wood from his hand. He paused in his tracks, eyebrows scrunched warily. Sensing that Owen clearly thought her incapable of actually consuming the tree bark, Claire's Achilles Heel rose to the fore. A single huff of air left her nostrils and she turned it over in her grip. Swallowing determinedly and looking Owen directly in the eye, Claire opened her mouth, peeled a strip off and began to chew.

Or at least, she would have. If Owen hadn't knocked it from her hands with a frantic "No!"

"A _ha_!" Claire's eyebrows rose triumphantly.

"I can't believe it. You were _actually_ gonna _eat_ that!"

" _I_ can't believe you'd stoop so low for entertainment! Are you really that bored? Because we can always double back on the Raptors we just ditched if that's what you're..."

"Tree bark." Owen was too busy chuckling to himself, "I mean, you might have to eat that in the _tundra_..."

"There _are_ no trees in the tundra, genius."

"It's the _tropics_ , for crying out loud! Look, you want some food?" He rummaged through a canopy of branches while Claire looked on, unimpressed, "Here you go."

She squinted suspiciously at the offering, unwilling to be duped a second time.

"It's a _guava_." Owen spelled it out a little too loudly and clearly, "You might know what real fruit looks like if you didn't buy those ready-made, overpriced 'salads' you like so much..."

"Hey, I _know_ what real fruit is! Don't go using your 'Stan' voice, okay?"

"My 'Stan' voice?" Owen's eyebrows crinkled. Around them, the jungle was quiet, its dangers lulled into complacence by the midday sun.

"Oh you know perfectly well what I'm referring to." Claire continued, "Whenever Stan slips up, you put on this condescending display of...of...of patriarchal hindsight!"

"Okay, now you're just making shit up."

She placed her hands on her hips and adopted a low, gravelly tone, "'Maybe you wouldn't have an earache if you didn't have those stupid buds in every waking second.'"

"I don't sound like that."

Claire ignored him, "'It's not _my_ fault your chemistry partner can't stop staring at me...'"

"It's like a really awful Scarface impression." He squinted, "Really. Awful."

"'...Maybe if you hadn't given her flammable liquids while she was gawking, you'd still have your sideburns!'"

"Hey! If he'd given me a heads-up before he invited Pyro Barbie over, I would've covered up the tank top. Probably." He added, under Claire's critical stare, "It was, like, 100 degrees outside!"

"My point is that you might want to go easy on dishing out advice as an afterthought." She raised her eyebrows and patted his cheek, "Nobody appreciates it."

Owen rolled his eyes and was about to retort when Blue, who had disappeared less than fifteen minutes previous. The Raptor's emergence from the brush caused both Claire and Owen to jump in sync. The latter frowned at a skittish noise from the animal's throat and moved forward.

"Come on." He took Claire's hand as Blue took off at a pace slow enough to suggest the humans were to follow.

They were soon rewarded for the grueling trek...by clambering up a steep embankment and coming face to face with four deadly Raptors.

Freezing instinctively, Owen's only motion was to slowly move Claire behind him. She dropped her hand to the gun slung across his back, eyes never leaving the beasts.

"Is this a trap?" Claire whispered.

"Dunno yet. Just get ready to run." He muttered in reply. Beside them, Blue cawed and clicked, prancing back and forth among her fellow creatures. It was impossible for the humans not to flinch as several ear-splitting shrieks were exchanged.

Owen's eyes narrowed in understanding, "She's staking a claim. Lettin' her buddies know we're off-limits." He watched as Blue loomed over a particularly irritated Raptor, forcing the animal to lower its head. "Looks like she's still the Alpha 'round these parts."

"Lucky for us." Claire asserted shakily, moving out from behind her beau. Blue mewled loudly once more, and her fellows stood aside deferentially.

That didn't stop one or two of them from hissing and snapping at the pair of humans as they followed Blue's lead.

A quick dash and duck under a thick wall of vines at Blue's behest led Claire and Owen to the jaw-dropping magnificence of the Raptor nesting grounds.

"Are those...eggs?" Owen was awe-struck. Claire's eyes widened beside him, her heart racing like a stallion.

"Amazing." She whispered, taking in the sight of Isla Nublar's future. "I don't understand. All Hammond's Raptors were female. All _our_ Raptors were female. How did they even reproduce?"

"Seems like Nature found a way." Owen replied grimly as Blue bustled from nest to nest, inspecting.

"More like Wu and Hoskins found a way." Claire moved forward, awestruck. She was cut off by an abrupt shriek from Blue. The Raptor's head shot up to eye the woman sternly.

"Right, so...looking, no touching."

Owen had already begun to skirt cautiously around the pock-marked beds of shrubbery. He eyed the mottled eggshells with a mixture of reverence and dread. "Every time Tejeda and his cronies went on about snatching an egg, I took'em for prize idiots." He squatted down beside a cluster of speckled domes, "Guess they got the last laugh after all."

"Owen!" Claire's tone had switched from entranced to appalled in a matter of seconds. His hand flew to his weapon as he darted to her side.

She raised a finger at the bushes. Jorgito's half-masticated remains lay in shreds and shards among the bloody turf.

Claire was pale. "I don't think he's laughing."

Owen was already breaking into a run. He tore out of the shrouded entrance, eyes scanning the surrounding area for a sign, a clue, anything.

The two women in his life followed swiftly, one bounding past the other on powerful legs. Blue darted ahead of Owen, long tail swishing through the foliage.

Claire skidded to a halt alongside Owen as he ran a palm across a crop of leaves stained with dark liquid.

"They came this way." He was breathing heavily, speaking as much to himself as to his girlfriend.

"Who?"

"Stan and Eric. At least I think they did." Deft fingers worked their way across broken twigs and turf on the ground. Owen threw a clump of damp soil at the air, frustrated.

"Rain's washed out the tracks. I can't tell if they were followed or where they even went!"

A call from Blue mercifully pulled the man out of his despair. The Raptor, surrounded by her pack, clawed at the ground beside a mossy boulder. Her throat undulated purposefully. Claire watched cautiously as Owen approached the mighty beast.

Blue cawed again, nudging Owen's back with her snout and kicking at the dirt beneath her hind claws.

Buried halfway underneath the rock was a pale grey sweater speckled with dry blood. Owen snatched it up, knuckles white with tension as he held it up for Claire.

"Oh god." Her hands flew to her mouth, "Is he...?"

"No. There's nothing. It's just..." Owen balled the dusty hoodie into his fist and held it to his face. It smelled like soil and stale blood and had been spared the brunt of the rainfall due to a thick canopy of trees and the boulder. Owen inhaled deeply, searching for even a hint of his son's scent. Something to work with.

Something to hold on to.

Blue's pack were getting antsy. Their sharp eyes scoured their surroundings. Even the Alpha herself shifted from leg to leg. Claire heard the distant rumble of some unknown entity approaching and gripped Owen's shoulder.

"Owen."

He blew out a breath before looking up determinedly. Bunching up the sweater, Owen held it out to Blue. She eyed the offering impassively.

"Don't gimme that look." Owen countered sternly, "You're the one who found it in the first place."

 _Only Owen Grady can lecture a giant Velociraptor inches from his face._ Claire wanted to point out that the Raptor was unlikely to comprehend, let alone entertain, his line of reasoning. But she wisely refrained from doing so.

Blue would've just shown her up anyway when she reluctantly took a long whiff of the hoodie and then cawed at her pack.

Owen's jaw clenched as the four Raptors arched their long, muscular necks towards the sweater. Claire didn't know how the man remained so _poised_ while they sniffed around his hand. The particularly ill-tempered raptor snorted at the sweater and nudged it with its snout so hard that Owen nearly toppled over.

Blue snarled viciously at the animal, baring her impressive array of teeth. Clearly she had _not_ appreciated the subtle act of spite.

With a rake of her hind=claws through the dirt and a throaty call, Blue propelled her pack into action. The four Raptors bounded off, tearing through the foliage with ecstatic shrieks. Blue turned reptilian eyes on Owen and Claire before taking off at a significantly slower pace.

Claire bore up against the dull pain in her leg as she kept pace with Owen.

"Is she running slow on purpose?"

He winced and brushed a palm across his side as he ran beside her.

"You call this slow?"

"Come on."

* * *

Stan ran shaky hands over a derelict generator box. Isla Nublar's resident creepers had overtaken the well-manicured lawns of the Park. They were already climbing the walls and attractions with their thick, green fingers.

Stan blew out a breath, shook himself and tried again. He ran hiss hands over the seam in the box, checking for an opening. The entire central zone of the Park was blacked out, and Stan had been hunting for the source of the problem for hours.

"Come on." He repeated grouchily, tugging at the cover. After a minute of wriggling, it gave way. The young man narrowed his eyes at the tripped switches and thumbed them back up.

They refused to click into place.

"Great." He muttered, "Fourteen down, god knows how many to go."

Deciding to take a breather, Stan went in search of food. The automatic doors were stuck shut thanks to the blackout, but he shimmied through a Central window easily enough. Stan's first choice was to head for the building's cafeteria. He was disappointed to find the majority of the food products had spoiled in the heat and, after some frustrated rummaging, settled on raiding the vending machines.

Stan ran a hand through his greasy hair and stared longingly at the rows of junk food. His mind wandered to a conversation he'd had with Claire when Stan had first moved in with her and Owen.

 _He'd been eating a Ding Dong. A horrified Claire had proceeded to bombard him with smoked salmon, pickles, Scotch Eggs and a barrage of other 'healthy' but questionable snack options._

The memory of Claire brought a smile to Stan's face. Then his mind switched slides to Owen - who had let Stan in on his well-hidden stash of junk food...only after poking him sharply in the chest.

 _"Ow. What?"_

 _"You know Fight Club? Same rules apply."_

 _Stan had rolled his eyes at the dramatics, but since it was pissing rain out and he was craving sugar, he'd said "Fine. Just give me the Ding Dong."_

 _"You know Fight Club?" Owen had repeated with a severe gaze of his eyebrows._

 _"Yes, Owen! I know Fight Club, okay?"_

 _"You just failed. Right there. You failed at life. I can't trust you."_

 _"Oh my god!"_

 _"I'm moving my entire stash to Lichtenstein first thing in the morning!"_

After attacking the vending machine glass with an old fire extinguisher, Stan feasted in a dusty bathroom cubicle. He licked his fingers clean of chocolate and salt and copious amounts of MSG, relishing having a full stomach for the first time since his plane had landed in Costa Rica.

Heat began to fill his face as Stan recalled the moment he'd realized Tejeda had baited him so easily. Stan had been wrestling with guilt ever since, a tight fist clenched around his spirits and causing them to waver. It was one of the reasons he'd jumped the Baryonyx at the creek. The risky maneuver had been a cathartic attempt at penance.

Stan wished he'd had the balls to explain that to his father. He had a feeling it might have softened Owen's wrath somewhat had the man understood where Stan was coming from.

 _Who the hell am I kidding? Then he would have_ really _lost his shit_.

After raiding an emergency cabinet and scoring some matches, flares, and a flashlight, Stan continued his trek though the HQ building. He was determined to locate the source of the power cut before night fell and the creatures undoubtedly resident in the park's central zone came out to play.

Hiking the stairs was a pain in the butt. Stan huffed out breaths as he reached the main HQ operations room. It was like the shroud of the Starship Enterprise Bridge. A relic to bygone days of glory, where progress always won.

Before it lost. Repeatedly.

Stan tried all the switches, plugs, buttons, levers and dials in the room. Nothing came to life. An eerie quiet hung like a promise in the air. Stan yanked out an old wheelie chair and threw his tired bones into it with a groan.

And then he heard it. The faintest crackle of static. He sat bolt upright, senses primed for the hunt. He didn't need to look far. Underneath Lowery's abandoned desk was a bulky, long-range radio. A quick check confirmed that it was battery operated, a base station feeding out to repeaters that had likely been one of Lowery's many tricks during Tucker's reign of terror. Stan was even sure he'd seen it surface during the Jurrexodus...

Jurrexodus.

 _"You get it?" Owen had proudly explained his latest 'dad joke', "It's like the Exodus but with the word..."_

 _"You have to leave." Stan had informed him, red-faced as Suzanne Berkley, his impossibly hot lab partner, had ogled Owen, "Right. Now."_

 _"Fine." His father had pouted, muscles bulging in what Stan deemed a ridiculously undersized tank top, "You want a Owexodus? You got it."_

 _"It actually hurts my soul." Stan had failed to see the humor, "That's how lame it is."_

 _Stan had also failed to see the humor when Suzanne fucked up their lab mix while making eyes at Owen. Although when she'd handed him a teary apology after singeing off his facial hair (and what felt like his epidermis), Stan had had to laugh it off._

 _It was laugh or cry, after all..._

Not much had changed since.

The low hum of static on the radio was broken by the sudden crackle of voices. They were faint, muffled, but growing stronger with the gait of approach. Stan grabbed the radio receiver, cranked the volume as breath raced through his lungs.

There was no mistaking the back and forth. Tejeda's team had made the Park.

"...area secure."

Stan recognized the main voice as Merlin's.

"No sign of any life forms or activity. I'm advancing on the central building. Looks clear for entry. Over."

"We need medical supplies and facilities, Merlin." Tejeda's growl sounded weary, "Check their HQ for anything useful. The others will fan out and scope surrounding buildings. Over."

 _Medical supplies._ Stan's heart shot to his throat. Who needed treating and why? The Park was way off Tejeda' original blueprint.

 _They must have intentionally deviated. But why?_

Keeping to a crouch, Stan left the control room in order to access a window. Cameras would have been useful at the point, but as the power was out, the young man was left with few options. He found a narrow slit of filthy glass and brushed off the dust to make out a group of figures limping through up the road.

Stan recognized Merlin instantly, but his heart sank as he took a head count of the others and deduced that neither Owen nor Claire was among them. Tejeda was also absent, however, which meant he could be keeping both on his own personal leash.

Stan narrowed his eyes, scanning the surrounding streets for any sign of the remaining group.

 _Okay. So I should just...go down there and turn myself in. I'll tell them what happened and keep them busy until Eric comes with help. If that two-timer even_ comes _with help. He's just as likely to come with Tejeda's freaking calvary._

Merlin's group had entered the ground floor of the building. Stan continued to assess his options.

 _I really think safety in numbers is important. How much chance do I actually have of bunking down here till help arrives? Tejeda will find me anyway._

"That's it!" Stan declared to himself, "I'm going down there!"

He made it halfway to the stairs before performing a less-than-graceful U-turn.

 _You know, on second thoughts, I didn't see Owen with them. What if he and Claire actually ditched them?_ "In fact..." He lifted a finger, "what is _he's_ the reason they need medical supplies?" Stan groaned into a palm, " _Of course_ he's the reason. He's _always_ the reason!"

The sound of breaking glass heralding the forced entry of Merlin's team. Stan swore, darting back into the control room through the fire exit door. He shut it quietly behind him, flipped the lock tight, and ducked under Lowery's desk beside the base station.

The control room was several floors up. Tejeda's men probably don't even realize that its here. Stan assured himself with a eye-roll of disdain for their intelligence _, Without Claire and Owen playing tour guide, they'll probably never even find it. They won't even know I'm here._

"Sir." Merlin's voice crackled over the radio, "Just stopped by the vending machines. Looks like we got ourselves some company." The man sounded gleeful, "And I reckon its homosapien."

 _Well, shit._

* * *

"Lowery!"

The tech expert started, body jolting off his bar-stool.

Zach was there, up in his space, unimpressed. "Why so jumpy, huh? Blood running a little hot these days?"

"Look, kid, when you called I told you to hit the road." Lowery hissed. He raised a palm at Gray as the boy appeared alongside his brother, "Seriously? You dragged the Baby Genius along? You know, how the hell did you guys even _get_ here"

"We hitched a ride." Zach continued, his voice a whip cracking at the air, "With Fisher. Oh yeah - she's here."

Lowery paled, "She is?"

"Just across the road, actually. And she really, _really_ wants to talk to you."

"She does?"

"Mmm hmm." Zach smiled coldly.

"Okay." The man mopped at his brow, blew out a breath, "Okay. Good. She, uh, she needs to get to Isla Nublar with a strike team, stat."

"Here's the thing." The oldest Mitchell snapped, "There _is_ no strike team. Fisher's flying solo till she gets enough scoop. Now we both know..." He slammed a hand across Lowery's path as the slender man tried to leave, "that you can give that to her. So how about you man up and do the right thing for once in your life?"

"Okay," Lowery had had enough, "Firstly: man up? You and Claire are _definitely_ related."

"Thank you."

"Just...so hostile."

"Is there a part two to this speech?" Zach snapped, "My aunt and uncle are trapped on an island with a bunch of dinosaurs and maniacs!"

Gray squinted at his brother, "You said Owen's not our uncle."

"It just sounded more dramatic, okay?"

"So is Stan our cousin?"

"No!"

Gray rolled his eyes, "Puberty really messes people up."

"Hello?" Lowery waved a hand, "Excuse me? Still right here, cornered by a couple of of grade schoolers."

"Zach's going to college. In Europe." Gray corrected the man proudly. It was his brother's turn to roll his eyes.

"Look, are you gonna help us or not?"

"You guys have no idea how dangerous this whole situation is, alright?" Lowery attempted to reason "I tried warning Claire and Owen. They didn't listen, and look at where it got them!"

"Where _you_ got them, you mean!" Zach snarled, "If you'd have just done the right thing and phoned it all in from the get-go, none of this would have happened, Lowery! This is on you!"

"Fine! Okay? It's on me." He threw up his hands, "Life is complicated when you're an adult, you know that? I mean, you kids, with your Wii consoles and your selfie sticks and...and your ridiculously healthy livers." Here both boys exchanged looks, "You wouldn't understand!"

"Well, in that case, I'm sure _Fisher_ will understand." Zach thew out acidly, "In fact, I think I'll call her now, get her down here so the _grown-ups_ can do the talking."

"Fine. Call her!" Lowery scoffed with a raise of his eyebrows, "I'll be long gone before she makes it..."

"Hey," Zach held up his palms, "you want to leave? No argument here. We'll just catch the next boat out to the island and take care of it ourselves. Come on, Gray."

The man watched the brothers stalk away with a squint of his eyes, "You're bluffing!" He called after them. "They're bluffing." He assured himself.

That assurance rapidly drained, along with the ruddy hue of his sun-kissed face, when Lowery spotted Zach conversing with a waitress. The young man slipped the lady a fistful of crumpled bills and she directed him out the door.

Lowery groaned, drained his drink and hurried after them.

He trailed them to the docks, past bustling crowds gathered for a revel on the marina. _Cerveza_ booths had been set up alongside steaming vats of oil full of crispy _churros_. Banda music set an ironic soundtrack to the chase a Lowery finally caught up to the Mitchell boys, who were in talks with an already inebriated fisherman and his crew.

"Zach! Hey!" Lowery snagged the boy's arm. Zack wrenched it away, staring at the man impassively.

"Don't be stupid! You guys go out there, you're just one more bullet point on Fisher's list, okay? It's the _opposite_ of helpful!"

" _You_ are the opposite of helpful, Lowery!" The young man shouted over the music, "Okay? _You_! One goddamn phone call to Fisher and you could end this, but you won't, because you're too busy thinking of yourself as per freaking usual!"

It was a scathing lecture worthy of Claire Dearing herself.

Zach eyed him with disdain, "I'm not giving up on them."

" _Oye, guerrito_." The fisherman inclined his chin, "You wanna go? We go now. Fifty bucks, I take you."

Zach placed a hand on his little brother's shoulder, "Stay with Lowery. See if you can get him to fold."

"What?" Gray's blue eyes widened, "But you said that..."

"I know what I said." His brother gave a lopsided smile, "Come on. Need you to pull out the thumbscrews on Lowery here, get him to do the right thing and get some help."

"Zack, this is suicide!" Lowery was getting desperate. The mist in Gray's eyes suggested that his brother was seriously about to enact his insane attempt to reach Isla Nublar. "You won't even make it out! The Coast Guard will catch you!"

The fisherman laughed good-naturedly, "This Coast Guard?" He stabbed a finger at a group of smartly-clad men canoodling with a crowd of attractive _chiquitas_ by the beer stalls. "This is a _fiesta_ , _gringo_. They drink _cerveza_ , they dance, they sing. But catch us?" He tutted, beard bristling over chapped lips, "Not today. They say go, go die." He waved a gnarled hand in dismissal.

"You see?" Lowery turned on Zack angrily, "Even Captain Ahab here says you're gonna die! Zack!"

The young man ignored him. Instead, he gave Gray's shoulder one last squeeze before preparing to board the fisherman's vessel.

"Okay!" Lowery was out of options. He shoved past Gray and leaped into the boat beside Zack, "Goddamn it! If I let you go out there, I'm a dead man anyway! Just...get back on to dock and we'll talk!"

"Not good enough."

"Fine!" The man pulled out his cell phone, "You want proof, I'll give you proof!" He was still cursing under his breath as he punched in a number, "Stop that! Stop casting off, for fuck's sake!" He waved at the fishing crew, who exchanged bewildered glances and shrugged. "Hello? Yes, is that Agent Fisher?" Lowery gave Zack a tight-lipped scowl of surrender as Gray hopped in alongside them. "This is Lowery. Now listen up. The man you want is Diego Tejeda. He's been smuggling herbivores off Isla Nublar since the Park shut down. Yes, I've been 'privy' to his 'dealings'...none of your goddamn business, that's how!" He ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the gaze of the Mitchell boys as he filled Fisher in on _La Guarderia_ and its whereabouts.

"Yes, a bust! Fine! Great idea, best of luck...testify? Are you out of your mind, lady? Why the hell would I testify against a crime baron...lord...smuggler person?...Well, jail is _one_ incentive, yes." Lowery was too busy locking horns with Agent Fisher to notice that the boat had cast off, despite his protests.

Zack and Gray, who had both tried in vain to convince the beered-up crew their services were no longer necessary, now stood wide-eyed as the ocean swallowed up the Costa Rican shore.

"Aiding and abetting? Okay, now you're just reaching, lady!" Lowery was getting fed up, "You know what? If this is the way the bureau treats key witnesses, then it is time you _seriously_ re-evaluate your policies!...Witness protection? If I wanted to live in a trailer park in Louisiana under the alias of Buck, I'd join the cast of Duck Dynasty, okay? Hello? Hello?" He tapped his cell phone in frustration, "What is up with this signal? I swear, you pay a truckload for roaming and they don't even..."

It was then he took notice of Zack and Gray's thinly-veiled panic.

And the fact that they were now adrift.

"Well, shit."

* * *

 _ **"Well, shit." is my new favorite line. Sums up recent events perfectly, lol. You know what I could use? Some love from my pals across the globe. I will take them shamelessly :P - Ty**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Wow. It's been a while. Sorry this took so long - and that it isn't as long as the other updates. I got major writer's block and struggled for a bit. Hopefully it's back in full swing. If you missed this fic, leave some extra love!**_

 _ **Oh, just in case anybody was laboring under any delusion: I know very little about almost every technical and biological element of this fic. So forgive any glaring errors and file them under artistic license. It's easier on all of us, trust me! - Tyler**_

* * *

Owen and Claire caught up to Blue at a very foreboding treeline. The Raptor was stamping her feet and baying at the low-hanging sun.

"This is the Wall." Claire was breathless, sweaty, filthy. Everything hurt.

She'd never felt more alive.

Owen squinted at the shadows darting across the open grass, "Looks like they found their prey."

"Stan and Eric must've come this way."

"I must've told him a hundred times to stay behind that goddamn wall in a crisis. Never thought he'd actually _listen_."

Claire shot him a wry smile, "I think Stan listens to you a lot more than he likes to let on."

"That still ain't a whole lot." Owen brushed the compliment off briskly. "Okay, come on. We have Raptor cover, but this is no man's land out here. You ready to make a run for it?"

"Just try to keep up." She was already moving forward. He shook his head and took off after her.

Blue flanked the pair as they ran (or limped) across the open grass. Her pack scurried around them, two falling into line on either side at a shriek from the Alpha. The others took point, barreling ahead towards a looming sentry tower.

They were making good time until Owen spied something that halted him in his tracks. Claire nearly crashed into him but steadied herself against Blue's flank. She realized what she had unconsciously done only after she had done it, and instantly retracted her hand.

"I'm sorry." Claire offered hastily as the Raptor turned a scornful eye on the red-headed woman. Blue merely snorted and moved to stand beside Owen.

"What is it?" Claire moved to his side. Owen's eyes were narrowed, his torso bent double as he ran a palm over a patch of upturned turf and trampled grass.

"Something big," He was thinking aloud, "Make that two. This was a fight."

Claire surveyed the large circumference of torn-up earth and nodded her agreement, "Two predators?"

"Definitely. I'm guessing they were sparring for first dibs."

"Dibs on _what_?"

Owen never got a chance to reply. At that moment, a familiar rattle shook the ground. His head whirled sideways, body frozen in a hunch as the footsteps sounded like claps of thunder.

She stepped out from the treeline just meters away. Her jaw hung slack, her sharp teeth clotted with dried blood. Her scaly neck and shoulders sported deep gouges.

Isla Nublar's Tyrannosaurus - angry and injured and hungry - had made the group. Her roar of fury sent a whiff of foul breath rushing.

Claire gripped Owen's arm, "Run!"

At a shriek from Blue, the four Raptors charged, advancing on the T-rex with bared claws and open mouths. The Alpha female turned, bounding towards the sentry tower where Stan's scent had last been found. Claire and Owen were fast on her heels.

The T-rex roared again, bellowing indignantly as she snapped her jaws at the hissing Raptor pack. She broke into a reckless charge, barreling through their line with a swing of her enormous head. One of the Raptors was hit and flew into the long grass, bleating. The others leaped into action, sinking their talons into the T-rex's flanks in an effort to slow her progress. She let loose another angry cry and shook herself vigorously, faltering in her free run momentarily.

Momentarily was enough for Claire and Owen. They reached the tower, Owen forcing in the broken door with a powerful kick. Claire turned, and wished she hadn't. The T-rex had broken loose of the Raptors and was bounding towards the doorway, jaws wide and all-encompassing. It was psychologically a heart-stopping sight, no matter how times a person was unfortunate enough to witness it.

And then Claire was shoved aside, falling in the dirt as Blue pushed past her impatiently. The Raptor ran towards the much larger dinosaur, cawing her intent for war.

Blue's flying leap was a wonder to behold. With extraordinary grace, she propelled herself towards the T-rex. Her teeth closed around a fold in its throat, her claws puncturing thick scales as she dug in a grip.

The T-rex staggered at the vicious assault and acted quickly. Its massive feet shook the ground as it slammed its upper body onto the earth. Once. Twice. Three times. Blue was forced to release her hold, rolling awkwardly away. Before she could regain her footing, the mighty beast was bearing down.

Until Owen shot it in the neck.

The former Naval officer cocked his rifle and took aim again, face set like a flint. The horned predator turned on him, another roar sending the promise of death. Blue was on her feet again and wasted no time in biting down onto the T-rex's hind limb, stealing its attention.

"Owen, come on!" Claire yelled, poised at the threshold of their doorway to safety.

For a minute, she was terrified he would join the fray in a battle he had no hope of winning. But then Blue's four Raptors caught up and blocked off the T-rex's retreat.

Although, if the fierce roar that shook the earth was any indication, the giant carnivore had no interest whatsoever in retreating.

Neither did Owen, apparently. Claire slammed the butt of his rifle down as he prepped another shot.

"Don't bring a knife to a gun fight?" She reminded him of Merlin's words to Stan.

"How 'bout a gun to a _claw_ fight?" Owen retrained his weapon.

"You can't help him if you're _dead_!"

The crease between his eyebrows suggested he desperately wanted to disagree with her. But Claire wasn't having it.

"There are _five_ of them and they can outrun her anytime they want, but Blue won't leave until you're safe! Now let's _go_!" She hauled him inside, and he followed, unable to debunk his girlfriend's logic.

They backed into the moldy tower and shut the door behind them. Claire dragged a chair across the dusty floor and propped it against the handle. Owen ran to one of the tiny box windows and pressed his face against it. Sure enough, Blue had called off the attack and pulled her Raptors back into the thick of the tree line. The T-rex was giving chase, its tail swiping left to right as it bounded after the Raptor pack.

"They'll lose her in the woods." Owen muttered, turning to his girlfriend and slinging his rifle over his shoulder. "But finding Stan without their help's gonna be a doozy."

Claire flicked the light switch back and forth. "Power's out. The whole park's probably down."

"Means we'll be flying blind come nightfall." Owen yanked the inward-facing door open, "Real fun. After you?"

She flashed him a coy smile, "Such a gentleman."

Following up the comment with a kiss was an excellent strategy. The lines in Owen's face tapered off into an embarrassed grin. He swatted Claire's ass playfully as she sauntered by.

"No distractions."

"Alright, Grumpy. Let's map our course. I think we should split up, fan out and vector back in at the headquarters building." Claire raised her eyebrows as Owen opened his mouth to protest, "We'll cover more ground before dark and you know it. Plus the Park is completely safe."

"We don't know that."

She sighed at him, "Well now you're just being paranoid. It's good enough for Stan but not for me?"

"You think I'd let Stan wander off alone in here if I had a choice?" Owen retorted as they headed down a beaten trail towards the ruins, "There could be all kinds of things running wild. Tucker's Compys, for one."

"Weren't they outside the Wall last we saw them?"

"Don't remember. But they're small enough to squeeze through a doorway. And they ain't the only carnivores who could. Plus, we shouldn't rule out Tejeda and his merry band of goons recouping back at headquarters."

Claire frowned at him, "You really think they'd risk a cross-island trip without a guide?"

"Tejeda's one tough son of a bitch." Owen furrowed his eyebrows at the fading sun, "I wouldn't put it past him."

* * *

"Owen Grady is one tough son of a bitch." Tejeda mused as Merlin wrapped surgical gauze around a deep slash in his forearm, "I wouldn't put it past him."

"You don't _really_ think he and the missus are holin' up here, boss." The man snapped, "I mean, for all we know they died in that mudslide we came across last night where we lost their tracks."

The smuggler baron flashed his underling a disparaging glance, "Please. If a fall from the sky did not kill Grady, a little tumble in the dirt is hardly going to cut it. No. If he is not already here, he will show up soon enough. He will come looking for his boy."

"What makes you think his _boy_ is here?"

Tejeda sighed, "Merlin. Start using your _cerebro, por favor_. A man of your years can only be forgiven so much ignorance."

Merlin fought the urge to pull out his buck knife and slit the mogul's throat right then and there. He held off. _All in good time_. "If Jorge made it to the Park, he'd have regrouped by now."

"But Jorge did _not_ make it to the Park." Tejeda stood on an injured right leg, flexing his fingers and testing out the bandage, "He has not made radio contact in over twenty four hours. We have found no sign of him, the doctor, or the boy. They have made no effort to retrace their steps or return to the boats as protocol dictates. Now what does that _tell_ you, Merlin?"

"That they're all lyin' in a ditch or in some dino's gut?"

"Then who broke into the vending machines? Who opened all the fuse boxes and left candy wrappers in the bathroom?" Tejeda arched an eyebrow, "Not Grady. He and Miss Dearing would never leave such a sloppy trail."

Merlin narrowed his eyes, "You think that little twerp actually managed to ditch Jorge and Eric?"

"The good doctor's only tether to our cause was fear, Merlin." The man replied calmly, "I think that Stanley and Eric conspired against Jorgito. Our friend is undoubtedly deceased, either at the hands of a predator or at the hands of our little turncoats."

"If they're here, we'll find'em."

"Without power, this Park is a veritable maze." Tejeda picked up his makeshift walking stick and leaned heavily on it for support, "Stanley may not know it well enough to hide for long, but if he is re-united with Claire Dearing and _Papá_ , we will have no chance of finding them."

* * *

"We don't have a _chance_ of finding them!" Lowery hissed as the fishing boat made the Park's main dock, "We have to turn around right now! Take us back! _Vuelta, vuelta_!" He shook the sleeve of the captain desperately.

The man flashed him the same vacant smile he'd given them the other fifty times they'd insisted on returning.

"You pay to go to the island. You don't pay to go back."

"Oh this is about money, is it?" Lowery snapped, reaching into his wallet, "Oh great, I'm out of cash. Look, credit card!" He waved it at the man, "See? You want a hundred dollars? Just take us back!"

"No good. Only cash."

Lowery turned to the boys, who were looking ashen-faced at the overgrown Park before them, "You got anymore of those bills you were waving in everybody's faces, Zach?"

"Uh...yeah, I got..." The teenager rifled through his pockets, then nudged his brother, who did the same. Gray handed his older sibling his meager contribution and Zach cringed.

"I got thirty-two fifty."

"No good!" The fisherman repeated crossly, "Get off my boat!"

"Okay, come on, man!" Lowery protested, "Look, I'm sure we can work something out. Um...here, my watch! Very expensive, look." He took it off and offered the item, "See? Shiny. You could hock that for a pretty buck, amigo."

The fisherman squinted at the watch, and then laughed, "Okay." He accepted the offering, "Today you lucky, my friends. _Vamos a regresar! A la vuelta!_ "

"Oh thank God." Lowery sighed in relief as the crew began to cast off once more, "Okay, as soon as I stop kissing the Costa Rican dirt, I am gonna kick your bluffing little a...butt." He amended at a wide-eyed look from Gray "I'm gonna kick your butt, Zach Mitchell. And you owe me a new Rolex!"

"That was an Omega." Zach pointed out languidly.

"'That was an Omega'." The tech genius mimicked in a whiny, high-pitched tone, "Yeah and this is strangulation..."

"Stop it!" Gray yelled, jumping between the two as Lowery made a grab for Zach's throat. "What's that?"

The faint staccato echo caused even the fishing crew to still in their efforts. Hearts began to pound at the unfortunately familiar sound.

Gray took a step backwards, nestling into his older brother, "Is it fireworks?" He whispered.

"Sure." Zach's eyes were glued to the setting sun, glazed over as he flashed back to Barry bleeding out, "It's fireworks."

"Oh my god." Lowery had both hands on the railing of the boat, "It's Tejeda's crew. It has to be."

"Tejeda?" The fishing captain snapped. His lip rolled back, revealing a row of stained teeth as he advanced on Lowery, " _Diego_ Tejeda? _Están involucrado con_ él?"

"What? No! W...we are _not involucrado_ with him, okay? Just get us off this island!"

It was too late. The captain had drawn a beat up .44 from inside his flannel shirt. Its metal mouth gaped at Lowery's face.

"You get off. Get off my boat _! No quiero tener nada que ver con Diego Tejeda!_ Nothing with him! Get off my boat!"

Gray let out a frightened whimper as Zach shoved his little brother behind him. Lowery raised his palms frantically.

"No! No, we have nothing to do with him! We're not involved! Please!"

"We're just tourists!" Zach chimed in.

" _Stupid_ tourists!" Lowery added, "Stupid, American tourists with lots and lots of money, so just...take us with you and you'll get whatever the hell you want!"

Unfortunately for the trio, the only thing the fishermen wanted was to dump their human cargo and split. Which was exactly what they proceeded to do.

Lowery, Zack and Gray watched in despair as the decrepid fishing boat sped from the shoreline.

The oldest Mitchell boy reached into his jacket, "At least I scored some flares."

"Great." Lowery snapped, "Light'em and start running."

"Yeah, good job _you_ grabbed some useful stuff, Lowery." Zach replied in a monotone voice, "Oh, wait. You were too busy wringing your hands and crying!"

"I'm glad this is a big joke to you, Mitchell!" The alleged adult of the group replied petulantly, "Or, from the snark you've been dishing out since you waltzed in, maybe I should start calling you _Simmons_!"

Zach's eyeball ballooned, "Okay, _now_ you crossed a line, man. Take it back!"

"No." Lowery was far too pleased with himself.

"If you don't take it back, I'm gonna light this flare and I'm gonna shove it up your..."

"That's it!" Gray Mitchell's curly mop of hair bounced between the rowing pair once again, "I'm sick of you two fighting! We're supposed to stick together, right? That's how we survived last time."

"We stuck with Owen. Not this jerk."

"Hey, who do you think let out the T-rex so it could take on the Indominus? What, you think your auntie pried open Paddock 9 with her skinny little fingers?"

"Both of you stop it!" Gray stomped his foot on the cracked paving, "Zach's right. We have to find Owen and Claire if we want to make it out alive. And Lowery knows this place like the back of his hand." He addressed them both sternly, "We all need each other. So no more fighting. Okay?"

"Fine."

" _Fine_."

"Pinkie swear!'

Zach and Lowery saw the tears lurking underneath the child's bravado and, with generous eye-rolls, interlocked their smallest fingers with a strained shake that looked as painful as it felt.

"See?" Zach draped an arm around his little brother's shoulders as the boy gnawed his trembling bottom lip, "It's all good now. Nothing to worry about."

"I'll tell you one thing." Lowery ventured, slapping a hand across Zach's path as the teenager moved forward, "Those gunshots weren't a fluke. There are some serious unfriendlies on the prowl, and I'm not talking about the clawed and scaled kind."

"I thought Tejeda and his buddies wanted dino eggs. Why come so far inland?"

"Well if I had to guess," The man's stubbly chin quirked into a smile, "I'd say Owen and your aunt had just a _little_ something to do with it."

Zach eyed the dusk-shrouded walkway stretching out towards the boulevard. The gunfire that had sounded only minutes earlier had disappeared, replaced by the song of the evening birds.

"Okay, here's the plan." Lowery cast nervous glances at their surroundings, "Owen has a bungalow down the other end of the Park, near the Wall. We can skirt the ringroads and get there in an hour or so if we hurry."

"So we're just gonna run?" Zach didn't sound as disapproving as he would have liked. A cool night mist was swallowing the distant rooftops.

"And hide. Don't forget the hiding part." Lowery steered Gray by the shoulders down a winding footpath, "Look, Owen had a panic room in that thing - well, not like, an underground bunker, but he had this back room with a reinforced door and canned food and...other stuff."

"Other stuff like guns?" Zach raised his eyebrows hopefully.

"Oh _so_ many guns." Lowery was as hopeful as his unlikely travel buddy.

"I don't want to be out here after dark." Gray admitted in a soft voice as he trekked beside his brother, "Can we please go to the bungalow? Just for tonight."

"Of course we can, my Mini-Mitchell friend." Lowery patted his arrm, "We've just got to follow the Yellow Brick Road."

Zach rolled his eyes and prodded the small of Lowery's back with the butt of a flare, "Well, lead the way then, Tin Man."

"You are _such_ a Simmons."

"Hey, I can _light_ this thing, you know."

"You guys pinkie swore!" Gray hissed.

"Fine."

" _Fine_."

* * *

 _Fine_. Stanley's inner voice was shaky as it tried to reassure him. _I'm fine. This is fine_.

Merlin's drawl crackled over the radio as he exchanged barbed comments with a subordinate who wanted to call it quits for the night.

 _I'm going to die._

Stan huddled further under the desk and tweaked the radio once more. He'd been trying to get a frequency that would allow for offshore communication. It was a long shot, but at that point anything was worth a try. So far, however, the only channels Stan had been able to pick up on were the lines Tejeda and his people used to keep in touch. It was handy, to be fair.

It was also nerve-wracking and mildly terrifying.

Stan had learned from the various back-and-forthing that Tejeda and several of the crew had injuries varying from cuts and bruises to broken bones and even a ruptured spleen. He'd heard mention of a fall several times and was still trying to put the pieces together.

Three things were certain in Stan's mind.

One: Claire and Owen had orchestrated a deliberate - and successful - escape attempt which had devastated Tejeda's militia.

Two: Claire and Owen were still very much alive and on the lam.

Three: Tejeda was dead set on making sure they didn't _stay_ that way.

Night was falling fast. The control room, devoid of windows, had long since been plunged into darkness. Stan's flashlight was the only thing keeping him from the crushing black around him. He checked the bolted, barricaded fire exit was secure for the umpteenth time.

It was as secure it was ever going to be against the iron boot of Merlin (or explosives. Mainly explosives).

Stan had panicked when he'd heard the faint echo of gunfire only thirty minutes earlier. But a quick eavesdrop at the base station later and he'd sighed in relief. Tejeda had berated a crew member for wasting perfectly good ammo on a locked utility door a block away from the Control building.

No one seemed to have connected the dots leading to the Control Room yet. It wasn't exactly on the lobby floor plan board. Stan knew it was just a matter of time, though. His plan was to stand his ground until Tejeda's people found a way to get the power running again. Fired up, the Control Room was a war machine. Stan knew enough about its modus operandi to wreak havoc on the smugglers, provided that the system was back online.

If Tejeda wouldn't figure out the power, Stanley would. But he'd do it in the morning, when he had at least a smidgen of daylight on his side.

The adrenaline that had kept Stan moving for over 48 hours had fled his system, leaving him exhausted beyond reason. Slumped in a slouch beside the base station, Stan flicked off his flashlight and gripped the handle of the Hero knife. The hum of the radio's lights were his only beacon in the black of his self-imposed incarceration.

Stan's eyelids began to droop. He pitched sideways, and a memory emerged, jolted from his subconscious mind.

 _Owen's shoulder. I fell asleep on Owen's shoulder._

Mortified, Stan groaned. _Oh my god, he's never gonna let me live that down_.

Except that Owen hadn't said a word. Stan went from embarrassed to suspicious to flustered as he did the emotional math.

 _He must not have minded_.

Stan wanted to brush the realization aside as inconsequential. But something about being trapped in a dark room with armed criminals prowling just outside has a way of making one confront the truth.

And the truth was that Stan loved his father. And he missed him.

 _Okay, fine!_ And he wanted nothing more than for Owen to come charging in, guns blazing, sic his Raptors on the bad guys and rescue Stanley from his hellhole.

And maybe even...hug him and stuff. Strictly in a manly fashion, of course.

Stan nodded to himself, clearing his throat (and mind) of all such nonsense.

"Of course."

* * *

"Of course!"

Owen eyed his girlfriend cynically, "Really?"

Claire's hands were on her hips - first warning flag. Her eyebrows narrowed and her lips twisted.

Second warning flag.

"Are you implying that I'm _not_ aware of the electrical functions in this park?"

Rhetorical questions were the third, and most potent, warning flag. They were not be ignored.

"Have you forgotten I was Director of Operations?"

"I don't think so. Have you ever _let_ me?"

"Owen!" Claire whispered fiercely. They were huddled behind a grit bin at the flank of the ACU headquarters. Lamplight flickering through the windows confirmed that Tejeda had adopted it as his temporary base of operations.

"I still say we make for my bungalow. Remember the panic room?"

"Small fish. Big whale. We need to get to the power before they do. Now obviously they've tried the ground level circuit breakers without any luck." Claire continued with her strategy, "There's an emergency generator on the Control Building roof. If we fire it up and lock down HQ, we'll have the Control Room secured."

"But how exactly does that help us find Stan and get the hell out of here?"

"The Park's networks all feed back to one. We can access the cameras, lighting, locking mechanisms, whatever we need to stall Tejeda's team and find out where Stan is."

Owen nodded grimly, "It's a good plan."

"Of course it is. It's mine."

There was no arguing with that logic.

They kept low, slouched close to the earth as they zigzagged through the back streets of the Park. Tejeda's forces had been severely depleted, and only a ragtag duo were on patrol. The humid night air sucked salt from their pores, mosquitoes buzzed around their ears. Faint roars and shrieks echoed from beyond the Wall, and Owen was reminded that Blue and her pack were likely still there, hovering on the outskirts.

At one point, Claire swore she heard a scuffle from behind an old drinks stand. She'd prodded Owen and they'd ducked out of sight as well. Whatever the source of the noise, it faded quickly into oblivion and they'd resumed their quest.

They finally reached HQ, looping around the back of the building after noting signs of forced entry. Claire though they should take the stairs to the rooftop. Owen didn't want to risk it.

"They outnumber us and they're sitting on the weapons." He handed Claire his rifle, and she shouldered it irritably, "We got _one_ card, which is they don't know we're here. And I'd like to keep it that way."

"Are you really going to climb all the way up there?"

"You do know there's an actual ladder. With foot rungs. It ain't exactly Everest."

"You told me you flunked out of climbing Everest!"

"I broke my femur! There was a rock slide!"

"Was there also a convenient rock slide three weeks back when you bruised your tailbone on the counter top?"

"Okay, FYI?" He whisper-snapped, "That was _Stanley's_ bad! Dumb-ass kid was up there for some reason and he slipped."

Claire's eyebrows rose, "What reason?"

"I don't know. Because I'm not a dwarf."

"He's less than a head shorter than you now."

"Still a midget."

"So you just _happened_ to be around when he fell?"

"I kinda...get this...spidey-sense, which tingles when that idiot is up to something." He defended himself as he prepared to climb the rungs.

"Maybe we should give it its own trademark." She smirked, "'Daddy-sense'? No? Too much?"

"And in the line of fulfilling my fatherly duties," Owen ignored the jibe as he gripped the first rung,"I cushioned his bony ass and took the heat."

"I'm sure he was very grateful."

"If you count yelling at me to 'quit touching him' a thank-you."

"He was probably just embarrassed."

"He _should_ be. Who falls off a counter?"

"Well, aren't you 'Father of the Year'?" Claire handed him his rifle, "I'm coming up with you!"

They reached the roof of the building after a ten-minute arduous trek up the mossy maintenance rungs. Respective ribs and legs throbbed in pain, hidden behind tight smiles of triumph. Claire led the way in the moonlight, stepping over pipelines and wire mesh to round a corner. A filthy generator stood mournfully before them - a lone, incapacitated guardian to Atlantis, waiting for its queen to renew its spark.

Claire wasn't one for ceremony.

A quick fix later and the power was on, the generator thrumming to life.

"And Claire said 'let there be light'. And there was light." The redhead folded her arms across her chest in satisfaction.

"And He saw that it was _good_." Owen swooped in for a kiss.

"Mmm." She savored the brief touch of his lips with a smile, "And it _was_ good."

* * *

"This is _not_ good!" Lowery hissed, "We almost got caught. Tejeda must have hundreds of men on patrol out here! We'll never make it to the bungalow."

"Hundreds." Zack scoffed, "We had _one_ close call. One. And I'm pretty sure I only saw two shadows passing by. Now will you chill the fuck out? This was _your_ idea anyway."

They had ducked behind a drinks stall a few clicks back at the sound of approaching company. Lowery had almost had a panic attack, which had forced Zack to swallow his own fear and play it cool for the sake of Gray - who was barely holding it together.

"Do you think there are dinosaurs out here?" Gray whispered to his brother. They had cleared the main Park complex and were now tackling the No-Man's Land of shrubbery en route to the bungalows.

"If there are, they'll just be herbivores. All the carnos are South-side, behind the Wall, remember?" Zack kept a hand on the boy's shoulder as they walked, "Nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, except for Tucker's Compys."

The oldest Mitchell leveled a death glare at Lowery, which was unfortunately lost in the darkness.

"C...Compys?" Gray stammered, "I thought...I mean, those weren't on Masrani's list."

"Yeah, well, Tucker and Wu had a little lab party on the sly."

"But they got taken out." Zack assured his brother in a cold tone that demanded Lowery's cooperation. "Owen said there aren't any more around here. Are there, Lowery?"

"No. No, there aren't." The paltry offering was enough to temporarily console Gray as the group continued onward.

"Okay..." Lowery was checking his phone, "Still no signal, but I think my compass app has an offline option if I calculate the bearings." He paused in his tracks, and the boys huddled like moths to a flame, "Ugh...what were the coordinates for this sector again? I swear, I had the whole thing down..."

"What was that?" Gray jumped, startled by a sudden leap of shadows in the brush. Both Zack and Lowery turned around, searching for the source of distant light. A faint glimmer from above the treetops had the tech expert shaking his head in bewilderment.

"The power's back on?" Zack wanted to know.

"Not exactly." Lowery stared at the pinnacle, aghast, "That can't be right. How the hell would his people know where to look?"

"Who's people?" Gray tugged at his brother's sleeve, "What's going on?"

"Even if they found it, there's an access code to complete the launch. Without it, the generator shuts back down." Lowery rambled, running a hand across his scalp.

"Wait a minute." Zack snapped, "What exactly are you saying?"

"We have to turn around." Lowery began to head back down the trail they'd just beaten, "We gotta go back, _now_."

"Go back _where_? What the hell for?" The teenager caught Lowery's elbow and whiled him around, "Lowery!"

The man's eyes were wild, and - for the first time - hopeful.

"It's Claire and Owen." He whispered with a shaky nod, "They're in the Park. And they just took HQ."

* * *

 _ **Oh, it is on, baby! Let the games begin!**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Back with another update! No dinosaurs in this one (sorry, Blue fans) but a morbid comedy of errors-esque piece that sets the necessary stage for some major dino action coming next! Also, realized I should start warning for language, precisely-worded threats, etc etc. Block your ears and hum, kids!**_

 _ **Again, it's only a crazy piece of fiction, so enjoy it and don't take it too seriously. I try my best to do the same *lies through teeth* lol. Read and Review! - Ty**_

* * *

Diego Tejeda winced as he sipped from the Perroni can his underling had placed in front of him. It was warm, flat - pilfered from a trashed-out bar in one of the pricey Park hotels.

"Better than nothing. Right, boss?" Eddy was a butch British man with a nose as crooked as his past in the mob. He'd been hand-picked by Merlin for his expertise in trafficking. Teenage girls, baby dinosaurs - only thing that concerned Linas was the paycheck.

Which was probably why he had such shitty taste in booze.

Tejeda put the can down and appraised the man coldly, "Remind me why I sent you out there, Eddy."

The man popped the tab off his own rancid drink, "You said you wanted something to take the edge off. I figured..."

"You figured wrong. If I wanted a can of cat piss, I would have asked a pussy like you to fill one up!" Tejeda hollered as he hurled the beer at Eddy's head. The man stood, shocked, warm beer dripping down his crooked nose.

Tejeda was in pain. And all he'd wanted was a bottle of hard liquor to tide him over. But Eddy had returned with a fucking case of tepid beer. And Tejeda's cool was beginning to slip.

The stunned silence in the arms warehouse was broken by a vigilante, sweaty and wide-eyed.

"Boss! Something's happening."

"One of the buildings has power. Looks like some kind of emergency generator got activated. The whole thing's lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree!"

Tejeda shot to his feet, ignoring the pain crying out from his entire body.

"Which building?"

* * *

Stan jolted from sleep as the Control Room came to life. Lights flashed and danced around his head. Blue displays lit up invisible screens, running numbers and stats as the computers booted into action.

It was a wonder to behold. Stan rose to his feet, slack-jawed as he soaked it all up like a sponge. The re-awakening of Artificial Intelligence.

No. Not Artificial Intelligence. This was Intelligent Design. And Stan had absolutely no idea who was playing God in the Park that particular night.

Lowery's desktop beeped at him invitingly, and Stan strode towards it as an overhead screen began to pull camera feeds.

Stan slipped into Lowery's chair, blew out a shaky breath, and gave the keyboard a tentative click. He'd seen the bespectacled operator do it a thousand times during his visits to the Control Room. Stan knew enough about the Park's system to do some touch-and-go basics. And he didn't have an unbroken line of A pluses in Computation for nothing.

What Stan didn't know, he could goddamn freaking learn.

Consulting a Park blueprint in one window, Stan called up camera feeds from the main buildings dotting the center. It didn't take him long to find them. Sitting tight in ACU with a stock load of weapons to fall back on fit snugly into Tejeda's modus operandi. It didn't surprise Stanley in the slightest.

In fact, he'd been counting on it.

"I don't care if you flipped the power on, you bastard." Stan muttered tightly to himself as he pulled up on operator's manual, "I got the fucking joystick. Which means if anybody's playing God tonight, it's gonna be me."

* * *

"Stop." Claire grabbed Owen's arm as his boots hit the ground running. "Someone's out there."

Owen let go of the ladder rung and swung his weapon round, face set hard. "Where?"

"I heard voices, down that way." She whispered, indicating with a finger towards the darkness. "Do you think Tejeda..."

"They had a grand total of two troopers on patrol. Rest of'em were sitting tight at ACU." Owen rested a hand on her arm, backing away from the sound and towards the building entrance, "Even if they managed to score a working ride, they wouldn't have made it over here this quickly."

"Well it's obviously the patrol, then! Shouldn't we confront them before they tell Tejeda that we're here?"

"He already _knows_ we're here. You think they didn't see the lights come on?"

She tugged him to a halt, "Well, what if it's Stanley?"

"It's not."

"And how _exactly_ do you know that?"

"Because he'd already be yapping our ears off about how long it took to rescue him! Now come on! We stick to the plan, lock down the Control Room. Once we're in, it doesn't matter what they do..."

He was interrupted by a hail of gunfire bursting from the dark. They both dove to the ground, Owen shadowing Claire's body with his own out of sheer instinct.

"Are you okay?" He asked once the gunfire ceased.

"I'm fine! Are you?"

"Looks like someone's feeling cocky." He snarled, darting in a crouch to an ebbing corner of the building, "I guess Tejeda's boy scouts wanna cut us off at the pass."

She joined him, scanning the dark ring roads fruitlessly, "If they get to the Control Room first, we're screwed!"

"Which is why _you_ are gonna cross that goddamn finish line while I cover you."

"What?" Claire didn't much care for this particular idea, and the knit of her eyebrows made that clear.

"I'll join you as soon as I get clear. We don't have a choice!" He added fiercely as she began to protest further, "Now _go_!"

She went. Not because Owen had ordered her to do so, but because he happened to be right. It was their best (and only) shot at securing the Control Room and coming out alive in the process. Claire Dearing was nothing if not practical.

Which was why she opted for running right through the now-functioning automatic doors instead of climbing through some broken back window. It was also why she was now staring down the barrel of Merlin's gun.

Her mouth formed a startled 'oh', but to her credit, she didn't scream. Instead, Claire opted for a scowl.

"Seriously?"

"Surprised to see me?" The man was beat to hell, bruised from head to toe and sporting a dark blood stain around his middle. But his lips were twisted into half-sneer half-grin. "Guess you thought I bit the dust in that cordless bungee jump of yours."

"I'd say it was more of a sky-dive sans parachute. But I should've remembered that cockroaches can survive even a nuclear holocaust."

He moved faster than she'd anticipated, striking her across the face with his handgun. She gasped in pain, stumbling but keeping her footing. Blood stained Claire's mouth as Merlin gripped her hair in a meaty fist, shoving his weapon into the small of her back.

"Let's go."

He didn't expect the tight fist closing around his nether region. The instant agony shot stars across his vision. Claire's elbow jerked up, plowing into Merlin's nose as he buckled in pain. She twisted free of him and staggered backwards, eyes pinned on the gun he still kept trained on her.

Merlin grunted, swiping at his bloody nose, "Oh I'm gonna make you pay for that one, bitch."

Claire made a break for it, turning to bolt for all she was worth. Unfortunately, Merlin was a runner. He tackled her before she even made a ten meter sprint. They both fell to the ground, him astride her, gun to her head as she glared, dazed and in pain, at the floor.

"I don't think your boss wants me dead." She growled between grit teeth, "Not if he wants to make it off this island alive."

"Tejeda don't need you to get off this godforsaken island." Merlin's breath was heavy, repulsive on the bare skin of her neck, "He just thought you might fancy a little family reunion."

Claire struggled in his grip as he hauled her up, "You have Stan?"

He laughed grimly, "No, I ain't talkin' about your hellspawn of a step-son, lady. The boss thought you might be a little homesick. So he had your good pal Lowery bring a little treat from the U.S of A for you. Now," He pressed the cold muzzle of the gun deeper into Claire's flesh, "I'd get going if I were you."

She needed no further prompting.

* * *

Moments earlier:

"Come on! We're nearly there." Lowery was leading the charge to HQ with all the exuberance he had previously lacked, plowing through bush and bale to safety. Claire's nephews were hot on his tail, sticking together as they inched closer to the one source of light - and safety- on the island.

"Do you think she'll be mad?" Gray's out-of-the-blue question was aimed at his older brother. Zack threw him a look.

"What?"

"Aunt Claire. Do you think she'll be mad that we came out here?" Gray rephrased the query, although it was evident to both Mitchell brothers the meaning had been clear from the start.

"It's not like we planned it." Zack honestly hadn't given it much thought - until now, "And anyway, it would be really hypocritical of her to get mad at us when she's the reason that we're out here to begin with."

Gray frowned, "I thought the reason we came out here was 'cause we stowed away on an FBI plane and then bribed some fishermen to..."

"That's 'how', not 'why'. Look, we don't need to get into all the minor details, okay?" Zack snapped, eliciting a scoff from Lowery and raised eyebrows from Gray, "Just...let me do the talking."

"You _stink_ at doing the talking!" His younger brother asserted bluntly.

Zack couldn't argue with that logic, "Would you rather we let _Lowery_ do the talking?"

He didn't need to look at his brother to picture the grimace Gray adopted.

"Exactly. Just trust me, okay, dude? I got this covered." Zack shifted on his feet and eyed an abandoned gift shop, "I gotta use the bathroom."

"What? Can't it wait? We're like five minutes from HQ!" Lowery didn't appreciate the young man's timing.

Zack didn't give a shit, "Pretty strong words from the dude with a prostate problem."

"For your information, I have taken a grand total of _one_ leak since we stepped foot on this island!"

"Yeah, one leak that keeps on dripping."

"Oh my god!" Gray threw up his hands, "Just go to the bathroom, geez!"

Zack did. But not without a disparaging glance at Lowery over his shoulder and a promise to his little brother to be quick.

As soon as the oldest Mitchell disappeared into the building, Gray smacked his temple, "We are so dead."

"Oh come on." Lowery attempted awkwardly, "Don't say that. You just wait. In a matter of minutes, we'll be reunited with Owen and Claire."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Gray snapped.

Damned if the kid wasn't going places someday. Lowery patted his shoulder empathetically, "I hear you, kid. I hear you."

"You know what _I_ hear?" The boy stopped dead, eyes widening at the deserted street around them.

"What?"

Gray looked up at the bespectacled man beside him, "People."

They appeared seemingly from nowhere - a bedraggled man and woman clad in filthy combat gear and sporting automatic weapons. They froze in their tracks as their paths crossed the party of newcomers. It was evidently an unexpected encounter.

"Don't shoot!" Lowery was the first to throw up his hands. Gray followed suit.

"Who the hell are you people?" The male, the foreign slant of his eyes lit up by the focus beam on his gun, demanded in confusion.

"Wait." The woman, her sturdy build topped with a wild mane of ginger dreadlocks streaked with grays, stepped forward, "I know this guy. He's that nut job the boss hired back in Puentarenas. Remember?" She nudged her companion as his face drew a blank, "The Masrani nerd."

"Okay, it's 'technical adviser'. That's...that was the job description." Lowery stammered, "So," He continued in a more assertive tone as they eyed him hungrily, "I'm just...doing a little scouting. You know, like Tejeda ordered. He didn't...he didn't tell you, huh? Yeah, he asked me to scope out the Park, you know, gut their lab for incubation equipment. Please tell me you people found an egg."

"Search party found a Raptor nest." The man responded warily, "They haven't checked back yet. Who's this?" He raised his weapon at the littlest Mitchell.

"My assistant!" Lowery's hands shot up as he moved in front, "Placement program. What you gonna do? Can't let Uncle Sam catch a whiff of something iffy, am I right?"

The woman nodded at Gray, unconvinced, "What is he, five?"

"Hey!" The boy complained.

"This is bullshit." She continued, marching forward and grabbing Lowery's arm, "You're coming with us. Both of you."

"Fine! Yeah, good, take us to the boss man. I'd just love to hear him ream you out about interrupting our very important...ow! Watch the shirt!" Lowery was hefted away by the unimpressed female militia.

Gray's eyes darted to the darkened gift shop from which his brother had yet to emerge, as the other soldier laid a hand on his shoulder. The man's eyes were dark but not unfriendly.

"After you, kid."

They had only just cleared the beaten trail when Zack Mitchell ambled out from the gift shop. He scowled, hands dug into the pockets of his hoodie, as he scanned the street.

"Lowery?" He called, not risking a yell, "Gray? Where you guys at?"

After poking through his surroundings and coming up flat, Zack determined that Lowery must've hustled Gray along to the HQ building after growing impatient (aka spooked).

"Dick." Zack muttered before blowing out a resigned sigh. Yanking up his hood as a light drizzle broke, he hurried in the direction of the lit-up beacon.

Just as he reached the building, the sound of gunfire caused his heart rate to spike. Zack swore, dropped low and found a wall to hide behind. Opting to head through a broken cafeteria window he came across, Zack dove to safety. Brushing shards of glass from his jeans, the teenager cleared the emergency stairs two at a time. The gunfire continued, falling mute as he put a good distance between the skirmish and himself. Zack reached the Control Room emergency exit, found it locked, and bashed heavily on the door.

"Guys! It's me, Zack! Open up!"

When only silence greeted him, Zack rolled his eyes and backed up to a spherical camera hanging quietly in the corner of the stairwell.

"Hello?" He waved sullenly, "It's me. Your favorite nephew. Can you let me in now, please?"

After what seemed like an eternity, the door buzzed open. Zack felt himself sag in relief as he poked his head through the door. The Masrani Control Room was its usual mish-mash of blue and yellow lights. Camera feeds lit up every available screen. But the only sign of human life was the bedraggled figure sitting in Lowery's coveted wheelie chair, staring at Zack like _he_ was the Castaway reject.

"You're not Claire." Zack finally managed.

"And you're not Owen." Stan's voice was a breathless gasp of shock.

Zack entered quickly as Stan hit the close button on the exit door. It locked behind him with a reassuring bang. He made his way over to the camera feeds running on the closest screen.

"I thought...did you see Lowery and my brother? They were on their way over here."

"What the hell are you guys doing here?" Stan burst out in a tone which sounded a little too much like Owen to be ignored, "Did Tejeda yank your chain or something?"

"No!" Zack didn't much care for the tone, "Not all of us are dumb enough to fall for his bullshit. We came out here with the feds..."

"The feds are here?" Stan leaped to his feet, "Where are they? Are they close?"

"Well...we kind of ditched Agent Fisher back in Costa Rica." The oldest Mitchell explained as Stan gave him befuddled faces, "She needed to bust Tejeda's op there wide open before she could call in the cavalry. So hopefully she'll be here before long..."

Stan blinked at him, shook his head, "Oh my god. You're actually here on _purpose_!" He muttered, completely confused.

"Not exactly! We needed to crack Lowery so he would give Fisher what she needed...you know what?" Zack was sick of the interrogation, "I don't have time to play twenty questions with you right now. My brother was supposed to be here and he isn't. Where the hell are Claire and Owen?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

"You're sitting in the captain's chair!" Zack thundered, "What are you even looking at? Did you not hear the gunfire outside?"

"I'm watching Tejeda! His team are camped out at ACU. I'm trying to lock them down, but I can't get this configuration right." Stan was sweaty and his eyes were bloodshot and he was clearly losing the ability to prioritize. Zack reminded himself that not only was he fresher to this hellhole of an island, but he was the older of the two. He squinted at the screen.

"Can I just...? Seriously, just for one second."

Stan seemed loathe to relinquish the helm, but he also appeared to recognize the effort Zack was making and returned the favor by stepping aside.

Ignoring Project Lockdown, Zack quickly pulled up cameras feeding from outside HQ. The night vision etched the film in greens and yellows.

"There!" He pointed out, "Someone's exchanging gunfire right next to the main entrance."

"Shit." Stan leaned over beside him, "That looks a hell of a lot like Owen."

"I told you he was here. They turned the power back on." Zack flipped through several different feeds, pin-pointing various angles of the building's outskirts, "Where the hell is Claire?"

"You sure she was with him?"

"Lowery said she's the only one who knows the generator code."

Stan grit his jaw, "I've gotta get him out of there." He grabbed up a flare gun and headed for the door. Zack followed, bewildered by the irrational behavior. If there was thing he knew about the Simmons kid, it was that Stanley was logical to a fault.

"Okay, exactly how much good do you really think that _that_ ," Zack indicated at the flare gun as he poised between Stan and the doorway, "is gonna do you?"

"How about I shoot you in the face with it and we find out?"

"I'm not saying we can't go down there. I'm just saying we need a plan!"

"Really? Because your last plan was to drag your little brother along for an all-inclusive Isla Nublar getaway!"

"Hey!"

"So excuse me if I don't take a look at your latest blueprint for disaster!"

"You think I wanted Gray to come along? Why am I even explaining myself to you?" Zack was resisting the urge to punch Stanley in the nose. Not that he had ever thrown a sucker-punch before. And he knew for sure that Stanley had (some Phil Cummings person had seemed very dour about it on the Tonight Show...or was it Owen who'd hit him? Surely not _both_ of them!). Still, the kid was definitely less built than Zack was. And didn't Zack have at least an inch on him as well? That had to count for something...

Zack was startled out of his inner conflict by a pounding on the door. Both boys jumped visibly, hearts throbbing like parallel drumbeats. All conflict was thrown by the wayside as Stan handed Zack the flare gun.

"I'm gonna check the camera. If they bust in, shoot them in face."

He accepted the device, "Hurry up."

The banging sounded again, louder and more persistent. Zack aimed the flare gun at the exit and backed towards Stan, whose fingers were flying over the controls.

"Who is it? Is it Gray? He was meant to be here..."

"It's Owen." Stan slammed the release button. The door swung open and Owen Grady burst into the room, sweaty and filthy and ominous with his rifle still in hand.

"Whoa!" He jumped as hard as they had moments earlier as he caught sight of the first boy. Owen immediately scrunched his eyes shut.

"Zack? Zack Mitchell?"

"Uh...hi."

"Hi." Eyes still shut, the man smiled painfully to himself as though confirming Claire's nephew was not an unfortunate figment of his imagination. He opened his eyes and nodded at the flare, "You mind pointing that thing someplace else, kid? I'm a little...on edge at the moment."

"Yeah, it's...that's cool." Zack shoved the gun at Stan, who turned the swivel chair around and rose quickly to his feet.

Owen's whole body seemed to toss something heavy from its clutches as he saw his child. "Stan."

"Are you okay?" The young man gushed in panicked tone, "We saw the shooting, we..."

"I'm okay. They backed off. I'm fine." Owen reassured him hastily. For a moment, he wasn't sure whether the kid was going to hug him or punch him in the face.

He would have preferred either to the awkward pat on the shoulder he got in exchange.

"Okay. Good. That's...I'm just glad you're okay." Stan offered in a strained voice wrought with suppressed emotion.

Normally, Owen allowed his son his space. Always, in fact. Sure, he poked at Stan's invisible barrier every now and then, maybe got it to budge a few inches. But at that moment, he wanted a goddamn hug from his kid. And he was past caring about Stan's pretense of indifference. So as soon as he got within reach, he gathered his son in his arms. Owen was aware that the embrace might have been more possessive than endearing. He knew the little rush of air that left Stan as the boy gingerly returned the hug might have meant he was squeezing too hard, but Owen didn't care.

"I love you." He muttered into the boy's dirty hair and, predictably, he felt Stan tense up. Fuck it. He'd been wanting to say it since they'd stood outside that damn garage in San Diego. And thanks to the shit-storm that was their life, Owen hadn't gotten the chance. He didn't need Stan to say it back to him right then and he didn't give a good goddamn if it made Stanley feel uncomfortable. It was the truth.

"Where's Claire?"

Speaking of uncomfortable truths. Owen released Stanley from the embrace and turned to Zack, who had poised the question in a wary tone. Keeping one arm draped around Stan's shoulders (because he wasn't ready to let go of him yet), Owen struggled to keep calm.

"She was meant to meet me up here. You boys haven't seen her?"

Zack shook his head, "I literally just got here a second ago."

"Yeah, about that." Owen honestly could not do the subject justice, so he merely settled on "What the _fuck_ , Zack?"

The boy raised his hands, "Look, I know, okay? I can explain..." He faltered at an inviting eyebrow-raise from Owen. From anyone else, it would come across as a question. From Owen Grady, It came across as threatening.

"Look," Stan spoke up, ducking out from under Owen's arm, "they were trying to convince Lowery to help Fisher so she'd get a team out here..."

"Wait, 'they'? You're telling me you dragged your little brother into this mess?"

"They were trying to help us out and they got mixed up in Lowery's shit. Owen. _Dad_!" Stan tugged at the finger his father was pointing at a guilt-ridden Zack, getting Owen's attention, "Come on, you know what Lowery's like. We can work this shit out later. Come on."

They had bigger fish to fry and they all knew it.

"You know what? It's cool." Owen raised a hand in mock surrender along with his eyebrows.

Zack squinted, unconvinced, "Really?"

"Yeah. You can just explain yourself to Claire when she shows up. I'm sure she'll be totally fine with it." Owen watched the color drain from the young man's already pale face with a satisfied nod.

Seizing the momentarily lull, Stan continued his crusade. He switched his grip from Owen's hand to his wrist and yanked him towards the computer screens. "You say Claire was meant to meet you here?"

"I sent her inside when the shooting broke out. She was headed for the Control Room. Where the hell could she be?"

"We can find out." Stan resumed control of the helm, "I can access the lobby cameras and run playback. It'll take a minute, but I can find her."

"Lowery and Gray were on their way here, too." Zack piped up quietly, worriedly, "We were only a couple blocks away. I ducked inside for a second. When I came back out, they were just...gone."

"Any signs of a struggle?" Queried Owen, "Did you hear anything?"

"No. I thought they'd just decided to keep walking or something."

"Here." Stan's efforts to placate his father had returned him to his element. He'd pulled the playback feeds and was pointing out footage of Claire striding into the HQ lobby.

The confrontation between her and Merlin was even more intense when played out silently. Owen slammed his hands onto the desk hard enough to make both boys jump again when Claire staggered from the force of Merlin's pistol-whip. He turned and headed for the door.

"Where's he going?" Zack prodded Stan.

"Where're you going?" Stan echoed the call.

"I think I've seen enough." Owen slung his rifle over his shoulder, "You boys stay put till I get back."

It was almost comical watching the father charging blindly to the melee in the exact spot where his son had done the same only moments earlier. Not that the poetic irony was appreciated by anybody right just then.

"You don't even know where to look!" Stan argued, catching up to his father's left side.

"Oh I know _exactly_ where to look."

"ACU? I've been watching them. You're gonna charge into a place where Tejeda's holding Claire _and_ all the weapons?"

"Not all of them." Owen patted his rifle, "And who said anything about charging?" He stopped, mouth set tightly as Stan blocked his path to the door.

"Get out of the way."

"No." His son refused, "We do this together, and we do it right, or not at all."

Owen leaned in, fury rising in the cold bite of his tone, "Last I checked, you don't get to make the rules."

"I just get to _lose_ people, is that it?"

"Guys!" Zack barked from the controls, "I think I found Gray and Lowery!"

The bitter tang in the air disappated as both Owen and Stan saw what the oldest Mitchell brother had discovered.

"I pulled up the ACU cameras to see if that's where they were keeping Claire." Zack zoomed in on a grim-looking pair huddled in the corner of a filing room. "Check it out."

The footage clearly showed Lowery, the night vision in the camera clashing with the torches to paint him in an eerie light. Beside him sat Gray, swinging his legs absently and randomly attempting conversation with a rough-looking woman standing guard.

"They seem okay." Zack muttered in relief.

"Thank God." Owen rubbed a hand across his face before resting it on Zack's shoulder and leaning in for a closer look, "See if you can find Claire."

They found her a minute later after switching feeds. Claire was with Tejeda in an otherwise empty stock room. The smuggler was slouched at a table, alternating between sips of some beverage and clipped sound bytes. Claire was pacing, alternating between crossing her arms over her chest and planting her hands on her hips as she retorted animatedly.

Zack gave a fond smile, "Looks like Claire's okay, as well."

"For now." Owen agreed. He unconsciously mirrored his fiance's pose, thumbs looping in his belt as he strode to and fro, "The question is; what exactly does Tejeda want?"

"Well, I'm guessing he wants a guide to take them back to the boats." Stan chewed a pen lid anxiously, "Eric will have beat them to it, though."

"What?"

"After we found the Raptor nesting grounds, Jorge decided to try and take an egg..." Stan began to explain.

"Yeah, I saw how that worked out for him." Owen was still pacing, "What happened to the doctor?"

"Turns out he was flipped the whole time. As soon as we cleared the nest, he wanted us to hijack a boat and go back to Costa Rica to get help. He was pretty sure we could pull it off."

The story lulled. Owen waited for a grand total of three seconds before pausing in his stride, "And? What went wrong?"

"Well, maybe he made it. I don't know..."

"You didn't even _try_ to go with him, did you?" Owen said, more to himself than to anybody else, shaking his head in disbelief and scraping a hand across his jaw, "This is unbelievable."

Stan rolled his eyes, "I wasn't about to leave without you guys!"

"No, you know what? Save it." His father held up a hand, "Honestly, I don't even know why I'm surprised anymore."

"You know, I am so _sick_ of your hypocritical bullshit!"

"Stan." It was a warning.

"No, seriously, why don't you ask Claire? I'm pretty sure she's _also_ sick of how it's one rule for you and another for the rest of us!"

"Both of you shut up!" Zack had had enough, storming in between the pair with a face like thunder, "This isn't Days of Our freaking Lives! We need to figure out how to get Gray and Claire and Lowery so we can all get off this island! That means no more arguing, and no more Kamikaze bullshit." The last sentence was directed at Owen, who glared in response. Zack took their silence for consent and shook his head, "Jesus."

The young man headed back to the controls.

"We'll finish this little _chat_ in San Diego." Owen ground out tightly.

"I can hardly wait." Stan rolled his eyes under his dirty brown bangs.

Zack resisted the urge to bang his face against the keyboard.

Bigger fish needed frying.

* * *

An ugly bruise had formed across Claire's chin, joining hand-in-hand with a split, swollen lip to make speaking an extremely painful task.

But Claire Dearing was no stranger to pain. And she happened to have an awful lot to say.

"Look, I don't know what you're hoping to accomplish by keeping me here," She snapped at Tejeda, "but Owen isn't just going to lay down his arms and wave a white flag."

The mogul raised a questioning eyebrow, his face etched harshly in the lamplight.

"No. You see, you kind of blew any chance of him trusting you to keep your word when you sent his son off on a death march after Owen had done everything you wanted." She smiled acidly, "Not exactly a people person, are you?"

He merely sat in silence, eyes dark and hungry. Claire refused to be intimidated.

"So I've asked you eight times already. Why not make it nine? You send Merlin with a mandatory invitation to a mysterious 'family reunion'..."

"Stop. Talking." Tejeda finally spoke, and it was a cold hiss that sent chills down Claire's spine. She arched her brows and folded her arms in a silent invitation for him to fill the silence.

He rose on shaky legs, slumped heavily on a stick for support. "I have had many enemies in my time. Most I have bested. A very small number have bested me." He limped towards her, his free hand gripping a handgun. She refused to budge from her spot as Tejeda invaded her space.

"I have never been bested by a woman." He mused, lifting up the gun to stroke its muzzle across Claire's defiant jaw, "Until you. I should kill you, you know. Perhaps take your dignity first, before I take your life."

"What's stopping you?" She snapped. Claire had looked into Death's eyes more than once in her lifetime. It had never gotten easier. But she had gotten tougher.

Tejeda's mouth twitched, "My father once killed a mountain lion on a hunting trip. I was only a boy, of course. I watched that creature stare him down with proud eyes - eyes like yours. And in a moment, it was lifeless. Its magnificence reduced to a pelt and smoked meat."

"Does this National Geographic feature piece have a point?"

He released his grip on her arm. She hadn't even felt it though the numbness that adrenalin had forced upon her.

"To kill is not to conquer." Tejeda replied simply. "I will best you before I leave this cursed island, Miss Dearing. You have my word on that."

"Your word is _shit_ , Tejeda! And so is your obsession with playing goddamn Cat and Mouse!" Claire finally lost her cool, blind rage elevating her tone, "Contrary to what your lapdog Merlin had to say, I came along with him voluntarily because he told me that my family was here! So if this is just some game you're playing, then you're going to _have_ to kill me, because that's the only way you are going to keep me from walking right back out of here!"

They stared each other down for a full minute before Tejeda nodded at the vigilante outside the door.

"Eddy. Take her to our guests."

It was safe to report that Claire's heart rate spiked to a danger zone when she was led to the room that held Gray and Lowery. Her jaw dropped as her youngest nephew's feet hit the floor.

"Claire!" Gray darted towards her, and Claire felt her eyes flood with tears as the boy threw himself into her arms.

"Gray." She whispered, trembling hands cupping his glorious mane of hair, "Oh no. No, no, no. What are you doing here? What happened?" She held him at arm's length, "Did they kidnap you?" Before the boy could answer, Claire glared balefully at Lowery, "Lowery, you bastard, what the hell did you do?"

"Me?" The man shoved his glasses back up the bridge of his sweaty nose, "I was dragged here by your nephews! Go on, Gray, you tell her."

"Zack was meant to do the talking." The boy offered gingerly as Claire bent low and kept her hands on his shoulders.

"Zack is here? Where is he now? Gray, what is going on?"

"We were just trying to help Fisher get Lowery to testify." Gray cast reproaching eyes at the tech genius, "Things just...kinda got a little out of hand."

"Wait, Fisher knows we're here?" Claire dropped her voice to a whisper, "Is she going to help us? Is she here?"

"Not yet, I don't think so...but she'll be here soon, I know it!"

"Oi, Red." Eddy stood in the doorway, stroking the trigger of his weapon, "Time's up. Boss wants to see you."

"He can wait!" Claire declared authoritatively. She turned back to her nephew and squeezed his shoulders gently "Where's Zack?"

"I, uh, I think he's at HQ. We were on our way to meet you there, but he went inside to use the bathroom and while he was gone, Tejeda's people found us."

"Okay." She sighed in relief. At least one of her nephews was safe - safety being relative on Isla Nublar. Owen would watch out for Zack and hopefully mount a successful rescue with their shared knowledge of events. "Did you see Stan anywhere?"

"No. We were hoping he was with you."

"The boss is waiting, Missy!"

 _Missy?_ Claire straightened indignantly, "Call me that again and see what happens. Or you could just go ask your buddy Merlin how his balls are feeling." She twisted back to Gray, "Sorry about that. Some people are just rude. It's...a lack of education. Which is why we need to get you back to school so you can keep your grades up and, uh...so...okay." She pulled her nephew in for one final hug. "I'm going to get us out of here. I promise."

"Me too."

The reply was so earnest and endearing it brought tears to Claire's eyes. She blinked them away as she stood tall and nodded curtly at Lowery. She didn't trust herself to speak to him without tearing him a new one. Besides, it was better for everyone if they appeared to be playing for different teams.

Who was she kidding? Lowery had always been and would always remain Team Freaking Lowery. At least he had a conscience. Claire planned on using that one redeeming quality to salvage the situation before someone ended up dead.

To kill was not to conquer. And damned if she wasn't going to best Diego Tejeda one last freaking time.

* * *

REVIEW!


	10. Chapter 10

_**Happy New Year! I'm so sorry for the delay in this update. It was not due to lack of inspiration (thanks to all the new readers who faved, followed and left love during this unexpected hiatus) but lack of time. Isla Loca is back with a vengeance! Enjoy what you like, excuse what you don't, and hit that review button for me! - Ty**_

* * *

The digital watch on Gray Mitchell's wrist read 2:09 AM. The watch had been a gift from his father a couple months back. His dad had beamed, ruffled his curly mop, said he didn't need a special occasion to buy his son a present.

Gray had been over the moon until Zack had given him an unpleasant reality check.

 _"Dad just called Mom to cancel the ski trip next weekend. Guess he figured the watch would make up for it somehow." His older brother had ditched his curt tone at the tears welling in Gray's eyes. "I'm sorry, man. You know... I'm sure he wanted you to have it anyway."_

Gray jabbed the heel of his palms into his tired eyes. Beside him, Lowery gave a stuttering snore as his head lolled against the wall. The man had worn himself out, pacing out a rut in the ground as he'd demanded to see Claire, to see Tejeda, to use the bathroom...to have an ice-pack for the bruise their captor had inevitably given him in response.

Truth be told, Gray was glad that Lowery had finally bitten the dust.

He cleared his throat, let out a long sigh, and turned to their guard.

"They're out there, you know."

The man - Zane - was busy adjusting the gas lamp to their right, "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"The Raptor pack." Gray continued, quietly, confidently, "They're coming for him. And _he's_ coming for _us_."

"Who's that, kid?"

"My uncle Owen. If he's here, then the Raptor pack aren't far. I even heard them skirting the Wall while I was walking here." The boy was unruffled by the grin on his captor's face, "I'd know that shrieking anywhere."

"Is that right?" The Asian soldier shook his head, "Well, I think we can handle a couple more dinos." He patted his weapon, "That is, if your 'uncle' is dumb enough to let them in..."

"Speedy Thief." Gray interrupted, undaunted.

"Don't follow."

"That's what their name means. They like to snatch and run. Drag you screaming through the dirt, out of sight, out of reach. Then they disembowel you with their claws. Or they go for the throat, if you're lucky."

"Aren't you a little young for talk like that?"

"One of them confronts you, blocks your path and stares you down." The boy continued, "That's when the others come up from the flank and attack you. You could try and run, but...they can average 50 to 60 miles per hour when they really want to catch someone." He eyed the man critically, "Like people who steal their eggs."

"We don't have their eggs." Zane replied dryly.

"Or their friends." Gray swung his filthy trainers back and forth, "You see, their Alpha, Blue? She's kind of my unofficial dino cousin."

"Ah, the famous Blue."

"Whether she remembers me or not, it doesn't matter. Blue's loyal to Owen, and he's loyal to us, which means you don't stand a chance of getting out of here alive unless you let us go _right_ now."

"Enough." The man barked, "Get some sleep. You're gonna need it in the morning."

"What's happening in the morning?"

Zane tossed him a scratchy blanket with a pointed look, "Sleep."

With a frustrated huff, Gray spread the blanket out onto the cool tile floor. He curled into a ball atop it as Zane double-checked the window.

"Do you have kids?"

The soldier sighed, muscled coiling beneath his armored shirt as he leaned a hand against the wall, "Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

"You said go to sleep."

"Yeah, which implies silence."

"It's just a question."

"I got two kids. Oldest's about your age," The man eyed him with a cold smirk, "and a pain in the ass, like you."

"Are they back in Costa Rica?"

"Nah, their mom shuttled them off to some private school in London. Only hear from her when I'm late on a goddamn alimony payment."

Gray sat up soberly, "My parents are divorced, too."

"What makes you think I care?"

"Did they do something wrong? Your kids. Is that why you let her take them away?"

"I let her take them because they were little shits like you who didn't know when to keep their mouths shut." Zane barked hoarsely, "Now go to sleep before I pound you and your screaming wakes up Dopey." He nodded at Lowery's snoring frame.

Gray obeyed - with an eye-roll of which Zack would've been proud. He cupped the base of his skull in his hands and lay back, staring at the cracks in the plaster above him.

Zane snorted, satisfied he'd been obeyed. He left the room, door still ajar, to hover at the threshold as a companion called his name. A moment later he returned, gave the room a quick once-over and pointed at the little boy.

"I'll be right back. You so much as scratch your ass while I'm gone, and I'll hog-tie you for the rest of the night, you got me?"

"What's going on?" Gray propped himself up on his elbows at the sound of commotion in the hall.

"Stay." Zane slammed the door behind him, the telltale click of a lock echoing in his wake.

The moment Gray was certain the coast was clear, he scrambled for the gas lamp. Shoving a wire-backed office chair to the bullet-proof glass at the top of the wall, he stood astride it. Hoisting the lamp upwards to illuminate the window pane, Gray peered into the courtyard outside of ACU. His eyes widened at the sight that greeted him.

Merlin and another man were yanking at ropes, tugging firmly in opposite directions. The lassoes had harnessed a writhing, pint-sized creature. It squirmed on the ground, bleating furiously in its bonds.

Merlin shouted something, bright-eyed. The glass cut the sound byte. Gray watched as Tejeda limped onto the slick stone, clutching a makeshift cane. He appraised the situation for a moment before he clapped his right-hand commando on the shoulder.

"Lowery." Gray hissed.

Muffled snoring greeted him.

"Lowery!" He insisted, "Wake up! Come on, you gotta see this."

"I'm awake!" Lowery snapped out of slumber, fisting sleep out of his eyes as he lumbered over to Claire's nephew, "Would you get off that chair? You break your neck and Claire will break mine."

"Come and look at this!" Gray ignored the man, arching on his tiptoes. The lamp dangled precariously, and Lowery reached out a hand to steady it. He muttered something about setting the joint on fire as he nudged Gray's leg.

"Move over."

The two readjusted their space to share the window ledge. Lowery squinted in the dark.

"Looks like they caught something. Whatever it is, they don't seem too threatened by it."

Gray eyed him sagely, "That's because they have no idea how dangerous a Compy really is."

* * *

"Okay." Stan blew out a breath, slumping in the slick leather of the control chair. "I think I've figured it out. Hey." He prodded Zack's shoe with his own, jolting the young man out of slumber in the seat beside him. "You can sleep when you're dead. Come on."

"Maybe if your hour-long monologue about programming hadn't been so freaking boring, I wouldn't have fallen asleep in the first place." Zack hid embarrassment in a facade of irritation. He scooted his chair closer to the desk, "Where's Owen?"

"He went to board up that broken window in the cafeteria. Something about lock-down." Stan scrolled across the digital surface of the screen. His eyes were creamy pools with fiery threads floating in the mist. Shadows crept out from the bridge of his nose, curling underneath his cheekbones. Zack raised an eyebrow.

"You look like crap, man."

Stan scoffed, but didn't deny it. "Not all of us can look like Owen." There was a sort of despair in the tone that Zack could recognize. He took the high road.

" _You_ kinda look him. You got the whole...jaw thing going on." He gestured absently at his chin when the other boy threw him a doubtful expression.

"Why'd you cover for me back there? With Owen?" Zack continued as Stan returned to his tech work, "I mean, I've seen him pissed off plenty of times, but...you know..."

"Not at you?" There was that tone again. Stan was avoiding eye contact. He'd pulled up feeds of ACU, split the screen to display the imaging.

"Nah, not really."

"Yeah, well. In the short time I've known him, I've somehow managed to piss him off pretty much every day, so...yeah." Stan muttered vaguely, "That's why."

The air cracked with an uncomfortable tang. The eldest Mitchell shifted awkwardly in his chair. "Well...thanks. Guess us quasi-cousins gotta stick together."

"That we do." Stan muttered ambiguously, before he frowned at the screen, "What the hell?" He motioned for Zack to edge in, "What is that thing?"

The boys eyed the night vision cam footage dubiously, straining against the grain of Tejeda's outline as he and Merlin skirted around a flailing form.

"It looks like some kind of animal." Stan finally offered, "I can't get a good enough shot."

"Looks too small for a dinosaur." Zack squinted, "Maybe it's some kind of wildlife?"

"Wait." Stan snapped a screenshot and zoomed in, pulling up the image and adjusting the brightness. He stabbed a finger at it, "Look at the tail. And those claws."

"And that snout." Zack's lips thinned into a line, "Isn't that..."

"It's a Compy." His quasi-cousin, aptly named, replied, "Tucker was breeding them for a personal bodyguard. They must've found a way to get inside the Wall."

"What do you think this Tejeda guy wants it for, though?"

"Whatever it is," Stan pushed away from the desk, "it isn't good. We need to tell Owen."

"Owen told us to stay here."

"Funny. I thought you were asleep for that part."

"What was that thing you woke me up to show me?"

An empty puff of breath left Stan as he resumed his seat.

"When we were last out here, Randall told everyone the Wall line cameras were blown. That way he and Tucker could pull all their crap outside the Park and nobody was wise to it." Stan's fingers thrummed, moving like the tentacles of a beached jellyfish scrambling for water, "Turns out he'd just put a virus up to block them."

"Well, can you get it down?"

"What do you think I've been doing for the past sixty minutes? Singing you lullabies?"

Zack rolled his eyes, "Did you crack it or not?"

"Of course I did." Stan mumbled, without a hint of pride but just a smidgen of offense (clearly at the suggestion that he would do anything otherwise). "It was just standard malware. A baby could've hacked it."

"Then how come no one did?"

"Because he cloaked it. Anyway, doesn't matter. Look what I found." He conjured up a fresh feed yet again. This time, the camera stared into the open, mocking mouth of the wood outside the Wall. The tall grass skittered, darting to and fro in a sporadic night-time breeze.

And then a shadow flashed by. And then another. They stalked back and forth in dizzy circles before stomping restlessly into the camera's clear eye.

Zack pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes as he leaned in over Stanley's shoulder. "They're Raptors." He breathed.

"Blue and her pack." Stan pawed at the back of his stiff, sore neck. "They've been out there all this time. I knew it, but I had to be sure. I think they followed Owen here."

"But why are they still here?"

"I think they're waiting."

"For what?"

"For him to let them in."

A look, both thrilled and terrified, passed between the two, dark-haired boys. Their joint intent was clear. It was interrupted by the sound of the open-access elevator hissing open in the room.

"Dad!" Stan smiled broadly, teeth clenched sharply. "You're back."

"Ground floor's secure." Owen was wiping his hands on a Jurassic World towel Zack was pretty sure belonged to one of the high-flying hotel rooms.

Its thread count was now irrelevant.

"Only way in is through the front door. You lock it down?"

"Yeah, it's done." Stan stood up warily from his chair, "Look, Dad, I was thinking..."

"Scoot over, Sleeping Beauty." Owen had rolled up the towel and was now flicking it at Zack. The young man dodged the missile with a good-natured scoff. "What's going on at ACU? Everyone okay?"

"Yeah...uh..." His son cleared his throat after Zack shot him an insistent look. He tried again, "So, Dad, _ahem_. Talking of game plans..."

"Who was talking about game plans?"

 _Rookie_. The silent scowl from Zack did little to ease Stan's sudden bout of nerves. The young man straightened up. "Well, Dad, you know, I..."

"Aaand that's four."

Stan swallowed, "Four?"

"Four, Stan. Four 'Dad's' in...uh..." He glanced at his wrist watch, "...just under a minute. Must be some kind of record." Owen turned to his son with the ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth.

"I...uh..." Stan felt his cheeks turn a brilliant scarlet, "I really don't get what..."

"What's going on?" His father continued to approach, closing the distance between them even as Stan involuntarily shrank backwards.

"Nothing."

"What do you want?" Owen fought a grin and began to twist the towel forebodingly.

"Nothing."

"What did you _do_?"

"NOTHING!" Stan lost his cool, feeling his heart thud in his chest. Luckily, his newly-appointed quasi-cousin was there to help him out.

"We just thought you might want to know that Tejeda's got a Compy!" Zack placed himself between father and son, "We saw it on the camera. We don't know what they want it for."

"Let me see." Any trace of humor had vanished from Owen's features. The man gently but firmly moved both boys aside, frowning harshly at the footage from outside ACU. Merlin and his companion were hauling the squealing Compy indoors, their grins maniacal and triumphant.

"Whatever they want it for, it ain't good, I'll tell you that much."

"That's exactly what I said." Stan muttered at his back.

"Suck-up." Zack coughed into a fist.

"What's this?" Owen unwittingly staved off a quarrel as he caught sight of the Wall feed still running in the left-hand corner of the screen. The silence that greeted his query gave platform to the name which floated on the man's next breath.

"Blue."

Owen's fingertips pressed fleetingly against the grainy green image before he turned to the boys, "You got the Wall cams working."

Stan wasn't certain it was not an accusation. He merely nodded.

Owen's lips were tight as he turned worried eyes back to the Raptors, "Wish they'd beat it. Last thing we need is Tejeda's people finding out they're there."

"Why is that a bad thing?" Stan demanded, "Blue's pack would gut them all before they even got a clear line of fire."

"Oh really?" His father's tone was clipped, "Because I had to watch Charlie get blown to shreds by a missile launcher from that _exact same_ building." His voice rose with his final words, "They're not invincible, and they're not cannon fodder either."

"Gray is in there." Zack spoke up, " _Claire_ is in there."

"I know that."

"With a Compy!" The boy's fist wound tight against his leg.

"I KNOW THAT!" Owen thundered, "You think adding a pack of wild, untrained Raptors in the mix is going to help anything? They could turn on Claire and Gray in a heartbeat, for all we know. I can't control them!"

"You control Blue!" Zack insisted.

"No, I don't. Blue decides if, when and how she's going to help me. Her new pack is skittish. They could charge in and slaughter everyone, including Gray and Claire, especially if they're being shot at."

"What if we just let Blue in, then?" Stan saw the merit behind his father's reasoning, but wasn't prepared to abandon the idea entirely. They needed back-up.

"How exactly are you gonna do that?" Owen raised an eyebrow, "Lift the red rope for her and close it on her pack? This ain't a VIP lounge."

"If I can figure out a way, can I do it?"

It said a good deal about the shift in their relationship that Stan would ask permission to begin with. Owen knew this, and his reluctance to deny his son was evident in the grim tightness of his mouth, even as he did so.

"No."

Stan wanted to argue, but he recognized the look, the tone. The fact that Owen actually seemed upset at having to say no to him quenched the resentment he'd normally have felt. He knew the man had his reasons. They were logical, and valid.

It didn't mean Stan would hesitate to unleash the entire Raptor pack if push came to shove. But it did somewhat quell his frustration. Stan was proud of himself when, instead of a testy growl, he managed a resigned nod in response.

The submissive gesture would normally have aroused suspicion in Owen. But the man was too busy feeling bad for tanking Stan's idea. It therefore only served to make him feel worse.

Owen ruffled his son's hair, "Don't look so moody. We have a plan, remember?"

They did.

* * *

Claire rose to her feet as Tejeda entered her makeshift prison. The man was flanked by Merlin and Eddie. Both wore malevolent smiled as they advanced on her. Claire rolled her eyes and tried not to look as terrified as she really was.

"What is this, Tejeda? I don't have time for your pathetic intimidation attempts."

"I agree. Time is definitely your most precious, and most depleted, commodity right now." The man replied frostily, before nodding at his underlings, "Bring her."

The copper-haired woman pinned Merlin with a calculating smile far more unnerving than any death glare. He stopped cold, eyes roaming up and down her body as though assessing potential danger. Her smile widened.

"Well?" Claire snapped suddenly, relishing the slight flinch this produced, "Neither of us are getting any younger - mainly, you, if that receding hairline's anything to go by, so, chop, chop!"

She sounded like someone accustomed to giving orders. She _was_ someone accustomed to giving orders. Eddie, being someone accustomed to taking them, obliged her. He snagged Claire's elbow and bared a silver tooth at her in a crooked grin.

Merlin hung back, lids heavy, knuckles white around his gun. Something dangerous sparkled in his eyes. Claire fought the fear knotting her intestines.

Their journey led them to the basement of ACU. A room full of long rows of boxed ammo and files, it stank of grease and mold spores. Claire had only been down here twice; once to supervise a stock recount back in Masrani's heyday. The second time, during the clean-up mission, she and Owen had engaged in 'highly inappropriate sexual activity' on a stack of crates Claire later discovered held rocket launchers.

She blushed at the memory as she passed said crates. A stab of pain hit her chest and Claire realized she was afraid of never seeing Owen again. An animalistic sound bounced off the walls, and Claire began to worry her fears would be confirmed.

Tejeda, who'd stayed silent till that point, nodded at a built Asian militia standing at attention.

"Ready?"

"Yes, sir." The man waved a hand, cocking his head at Claire as though she were royalty.

It was a mocking gesture.

She carried herself like fucking Boudicca, regardless.

And then she saw what Tejeda had in wait for her, and the air went out from under her wings. Five caged Compys, darting to and fro, bouncing off the steel mesh. Their teeth were out, their claws, like so many razor blades, scratched at the floor.

They were trapped. They were frightened. And, if the ripple of bone in their scaly flanks was any indication, they were famished.

"We caught the first one scavenging." Tejeda circled the cage, one hand at the small of his back and the other on his walking stick. "Once we caught it, its cries drew out the others. They were easy enough to capture. The tiniest morsel of food and they were our prisoners. I wonder how long it has been since they properly fed."

Claire said nothing. She was back in that guard tower, rain beating down outside. Tiny teeth were tearing at her face, her eyelids, her lips. She heard the echo of Fisher's gun in her subconscious.

"Claire!" Gray's call snapped her out of her reverie. The boy had been dragged into the cellar, his shirt in Merlin's grip. The man wore a cruel smile as he hauled Gray to stand beside the cage. Without further ado, Merlin yanked the kid's wrist up so that Gray's fingers were a hair's breadth from the bars.

"Stop!" Claire shouted, darting forward only to be restrained by Eddie. She struggled in his grip, "Gray! Let him go!"

"How quickly the Ice Queen melts." Tejeda muttered humorlessly, "Perhaps now would be a good time for you to convince me to spare your nephew's hand."

"You depraved bastard! He's a _child_. He has nothing to do with this!"

"No? Then...why is he here?"

"He came looking for us. We're his _family_! Do you understand what that word means?" Claire was shaking with fury, with panic, as she wrestled against Eddie's hold, " _Do_ you?"

"Of _course_ I understand." Tejeda hissed, his face darkening, " _Zee_ was my family. The men who died in the gondola were my family. _Jorge_ was my family! They are all dead, because of _you_ and _your_ family."

Gray's eyes were wide, breath quickening in panic. The Compys slammed themselves against the bars, chattering and snapping.

"Time is up, Miss Dearing." Tejeda announced, "I came for a Raptor egg, and that is what you are going to get me. And you are going to get it alone. I won't trust what remain of my men into your scheming hands. Do it alone and do it quickly - for your dear nephew's sake."

"The Raptors know you've found their nesting grounds. They'll be on high alert. How the hell am I supposed to..." Claire's attempt at logic tapered off as Gray yelped. A Compy was nipping his fingertips with razor-sharp teeth.

"Alright. _Alright_!" She yelled at Tejeda. The man nodded at Merlin, who grudgingly removed Gray's hand from the line of fire.

"You want an egg?" Claire wrenched herself free of Eddie's grip, "I'll get you a goddamn egg!"

The sky was smudged with the promise of dawn when Claire was escorted to the front gate of ACU. She'd bid a tearful goodbye to Gray, who'd begged her not to risk her life on his account. His bravado had punched a hole in her heart, but Claire brushed it aside as she stepped into the dawn's light. The air was fresh, the island quiet.

Claire could hear blood pounding in her ears.

Tejeda stood beside her, his expression indifferent. He handed Claire a Masrani Corps backpack and a Remington.

"I assume you know how to use this."

The moment the rifle was in her grasp, Claire aimed it at Tejeda in an athletic stance. The butt-stock of the gun pressed against her shoulder as she peered down the barrel.

"My assumption was correct." He sounded pleased.

"Flattery will get you everywhere." She let the barrel drop.

Tejeda quirked a brow, "For a moment, I wondered if you had decided to do something stupid."

"Stupid's not my style."

"What is your style?"

"Efficiency." There was some subtle promise of a threat lurking there.

He ignored the jibe, "We'll leave for Costa Rica at noon. You have until then to meet us at the boats with the egg. If you do, the boy is yours. If you don't, the boy is mine - or, should I say, the Compys'."

"You should just stop _saying_ in general." Claire slung the weapon's strap across her shoulder, "Now, if you'll excuse me; I have to go do what twelve trained professionals spent three days failing to achieve, in six hours."

"Five hours, fifty-five minutes." Tejeda corrected her acidly, "But who's counting?"

" _I_ am. Counting down the seconds till your hideous, blackmailing face is out of sight." She took off without waiting for a reply.

She didn't look back.

* * *

"Get off my foot."

Owen rolled his eyes, "I'm not even _on_ your foot!"

"Well, _something's_ on my foot...ow!" Stan yelped in a whisper as Owen ended the argument by stubbing Stan's toe with his boot.

"There. _Now_ I'm on your foot. Are we done? Can we move on?"

"Now I know what Claire meant." Stan muttered. His father looked at him askance. Stan was happy to clarify, "When she said she _hated_ your stupid ninja missions."

"Uh huh." Owen didn't sound remotely bothered as they crouched in the foliage behind ACU, "You get that thing working yet?"

"If by 'that thing', you mean a handheld radio which has seen less action than a _nun_..."

"Ugh. I _knew_ I shoulda taken Zack."

"Well, why _didn't_ you?"

" _Because_ ," Owen peered through a pair of binoculars, "I can't just go dragging someone else's kid along on a kamikaze mission. That would be majorly irresponsible!"

"Nice. Real nice parenting, Owen."

Owen lowered the binoculars and looked incredulously at his son, "Seriously? That's the song you're singing now? Cuz this is the one you sung last night..."

Stan knew what was coming and panicked, "Okay, no, never mind. We don't need to..."

"'You never let me take risks'," Owen whined in a pitchy whisper, "'You're such a hypocrite! I'm so deprived! I wanna get shot at, too!'"

"Guys!" A voice crackled over the handheld radio. Zack didn't sound pleased, "You were supposed to check in three minutes ago!"

"Sorry." Stan mumbled into the receiver, "You got eyes on us?"

"Did Owen, like, not-so-accidentally stub your toe a second ago?"

Stan smiled acidly at his father, "Visual confirmed."

"I got Gray in the basement with Merlin and the Compys, and Lowery in the broom closet." Zack continued.

"Where's Claire?" Owen twisted to his son, "Hey." He repeated in a whisper, "Ask him where Claire is."

Stan squinted, then pointed, slack-jawed, through the bushes. "I think...isn't that her?"

"What?" The man followed his child's finger, watching as a tall, lean red-head strode purposefully away from ACU. "What the hell?" Owen raised his binoculars again. "What is she doing?"

"Is that...what is it?"

"It sure as hell ain't a Prada backpack."

"Why isn't she heading back to HQ? If she escaped..."

The man's mouth tightened grimly, "She didn't. They let her go."

His son frowned beside him, "Okay, so...isn't that a good thing?"

"No, it ain't." Owen lowered the binoculars and patted Stan's arm, "Come on. We gotta follow her."

"What about Zack and Lowery?" Stan protested, even as he followed his father through the brush.

"They're safe for now. As long as Tejeda gets what he wants."

"What does he want?"

"Guess we'll find out soon enough."

Claire was heading directly for the outskirts of the Park. Concrete gave way to mud, brick to vines. Owen's face was heavy with concern as it became apparent his fiancé was making for the Wall.

"Oh no."

"What?"

"This is bad. This is very, very bad." Owen shuffled forward in a crouch, batting aside leaves to secure a view.

"What?" Stan insisted. "What's bad? Why is it bad?"

"Oh, baby…" His father muttered to himself (or more appropriately, to Claire) as he watched her through the binoculars, " _Please_ don't be doing what I think you're doing."

"What? What do you think she's doing? You know, if you would just stop ignoring me, I think you'd find I have a great deal of…"

"Staaan," Owen dragged out the name absently as he peered through his binoculars, "Daddy's trying to focus. Seriously? She's actually leaving the Wall?"

"If you fucking patronize me like that again, I'm going with her!"

"Remind me to wash out your mouth when we reach the next water source." The sly dig was the final straw. Stan used his rage to summon sufficient courage and smacked his dad upside the head.

It had the desired effect. Owen turned away from the binoculars to pin his son with a look of utter shock. Stan raised his eyebrows unrepentantly – while secretly bracing for retaliation.

"Yeah. That's right. I went there. What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm still deciding." Owen's tone was crossing the threshold from bewildered to vindictive.

"Guys." A voice crackled over the radio, "What's going on? Owen, did you find Claire?"

"I'm sorry, Zack." Stan replied in a frosty tone, "Owen can't answer you right now because he's trying to _focus_."

"Look," Zack snapped, "now's not the time for your stupid Darth Vader vs Luke Skywalker crap..."

"Hey! Vader was awesome. Skywalker was whingey. And incestuous."

"I think I have eyes on you. Are you guys near the Wall?"

"Yeah, we're tracking Claire." Owen murmured, watching his fiancé head towards a sentry tower, "She's on the move. We're hanging back in case Tejeda's got someone trailing her."

"No, no, no." Zack started to panic, "You guys have to pull her back! She can't go out there!"

"Zack, relax. Your aunt's fine. She's got a weapon, she knows how to use it. We've got her back. Everything's fine."

"It's not _fine_ , Owen!" The young man yelled over the radio, "I'm looking at the Wall cams. The Raptors got ambushed by a bunch of Packys. It's a bloodbath out there! You have to stop her. NOW!"

* * *

 _ **There it is! Hit that button.**_


	11. Chapter 11

Wow _ **it's been forever. This comeback is shorter than I and probably you would like, but I figured getting the ball rolling again was more important. Review and let me know if you've missed this! - Ty**_

* * *

Claire carefully eased the sentry tower shut behind her. The gun on her shoulder was heavy. Its strap was carving a deep red line in her skin. She barely noticed.

Claire squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and nodded to herself. The vast plain of grassland which she and Owen had conquered the previous day mocked her with a tranquil breeze. The silence was deafening, infinitely dangerous. For a moment, Claire contemplated returning to the Park and asking Owen for his help.

 _No_. She brushed the thought aside, _There's no need to drag him into this. Besides, Tejeda said alone and he meant alone. I can't risk Grey's life._

Calculating the fastest route to the Raptor nests, Claire set off. The stale stench of death from the carcass of the great beast killed by the T-rex still pervaded. She stepped over giant mounds of dirt raked from the earth by the carnivore's claws as though they were puddles.

She'd cleared half the field when a distant thudding grew stronger. Claire stilled, slinging her gun around and tucking it into position. She didn't have to wait long until the source revealed itself.

A large male Packy was bounding towards her. Its flank was bloodied and torn, its domed head bowed in a challenge. Its powerful legs propelled it onwards in a full-blown charge. Claire had nowhere to hide, nor could she outrun him.

She took aim and shot.

* * *

Stan's head jerked up, "Did you hear that?"

"Screw this." Owen had yanked open the tower door and was marching through determinedly, "I'm breaking cover and going after her. You stay here till Zack gives you the all-clear, then get your ass back to HQ."

"Okay, but be careful!"

"Stan, if I have to hog-tie you and…wait. What?" Owen looked up from unlocking the outward door.

The teenager eyed him critically, "I said, 'be careful'. You're a major klutz."

"No, before that. You actually said 'okay'."

"I say that all the time!"

"Not before saying 'screw you, Owen' at least twice, you don't!"

"You're making this weird! Why are you making this weird?"

A second gunshot sounded. Owen pointed at Stan with a raise of his eyebrows.

"You _stay_!"

"I'm _staying_!" The boy threw his hands up innocently.

The door slammed shut behind Owen.

There was a moment of silence before the radio in Stan's hand crackled.

"You're not gonna stay, are you?"

"For your information, I have every intention of heading back to the Park as instructed." Stan replied in an injured tone, "I'm just…going to bring a friend."

* * *

Claire watched the wounded Packy keel over just yards away from her. She had missed it the first shot but dropped it with the second. Yet another victim of Diego Tejeda's cruel new world. Claire had no time for remorse. The caws of Raptors and throaty call of Packys quickly led her to her own conclusions.

She moved fast, running at full speed towards the tree-line. If the Raptor pack were still near the Wall, it meant their nests were largely undefended. Claire knew that even a single Raptor guard would likely mean her death – and that was assuming she could reach the nesting grounds without being killed by other predators. The final, and most troubling, task before Claire was the fact she'd be handing over an unborn killing machine to Diego Tejeda.

All this paled in the face of her pressing need to save Gray and protect her family. Claire let that need burn like a raging fire in her gut, egging her on through the jungle.

Get the egg. Get her family. Get the hell off this island.

* * *

Lowery slapped a hand down on Gray's fingers.

"Stop picking at those."

The boy chewed his lip, playing with the bloody tooth marks on his fingertips.

"Hey." Lowery snapped again, "Come on. It's creeping me out. I have a thing about…people doing that."

"Doing what?" Gray replied tightly.

"That."

"Oh, you mean, _this_?"

"Okay, you know what? You…that's it." Lowery lost it at the sight of Gray deliberately digging at the wounds. He made a grab for the kid's hands which resulted in a pathetic-looking tussle. "Would you…just…"

"Get off me!"

"I said _quit_!"

"Hey!" Zane growled, "You both don't quit, I'm gonna feed you to our guests. They're getting kind of antsy."

Grey rolled his eyes at Lowery, "See what you did?"

The tech expert released a dramatic sigh in response. "Look, could you be a dear and get Tejeda over here? He and I need to chat about my last paycheck."

"What about it?"

"It bounced."

Zane smirked, "Tejeda's otherwise engaged. You can leave a message at the tone."

The _tone_ turned out to be the sound of the militia's large palm cracking up the side of Lowery's head.

The sudden sound of gunfire, yells and mayhem filled the air above them. Animalistic shrieks and human howls echoed down the metal stairway into the basement. Grey shook Lowery's shoulder.

"Something's happening!"

Zane and Eddie were stood at the base of the stairwell, toting their munitions. The former barked out an inquiry to his team at ground level. More gunfire and shouting was the only response Zane received.

Suddenly, a figure appeared at the top of the stairs, swathed in sunlight from the shredded doorway. The slight yet wiry build worked with a dry voice to give away the intruder's identity in a moment.

"Everybody back up! Back it up, _now_!"

"Is that…"

"Ah shit!" Lowery interrupted Gray's query, "It's goddamn Stanley!"

Zane bucked the muzzle of his weapon upwards, "Hands where I can see'em! On the ground!"

" _You_ get on the ground!" Stan sounded jittery, tense, yet confident. Gray imagined being Owen Gray's kid could have that effect on a body, "Gray, Lowery, look out…"

A scaled demon, all claws and teeth, leaped onto the landing. Its swishing tail tossed Stan aside at the exact moment Zane's gun went off.

The raptor – not Blue, Gray noted, one of her posse – tore down the stairs in a single bound. Its hindclaws embedded themselves deep inside Zane, impaling him to the floor.

Eddie let loose a barrage of gunfire. The raptor swayed with the impact, landing on its side. Blue and two more of her pack appeared. The Raptor Alpha shredded Eddie's face like tracing paper. Her teeth sank into his jugular, spraying Gray with a shower of fresh blood.

The other two raptors advanced on the room's occupants, throats clicking, claws raised. Gray, eyes wide and mouth full of blood that was not his own, backed away. Lowery's eyes darted to Blue, who was busy decimating Eddie's corpse.

"S…Stan!" Lowery shouted, hands raise defensively as the carnivores advanced, "Stan, buddy, now would be a great time to cut in here!"

A low moan which did nothing to reassure Lowery was followed by a grunt as Stan appeared at the top of the stairwell. The teenager had a palm pressed firmly against his elbow as he skipped alternate steps to the bottom.

"Blue!"

The Alpha raptor's head shot up from her deceased prey. Blood dripped from her jowls. Her yellow eyes fixed first on Stan, then on his fellow humans.

A caw in her throat stayed the other raptors. They balked, hindclaws scraping at the flooring. Gray watched the long, clean incision form in the filthy linoleum.

Blue graced Stan with a single, piercing look. And then, with a cry reminiscent of war, she rallied her pack and was gone. The dinosaurs bounded up the stairs and out of the building without a backwards glance.

"Stan!" Gray ran forward, leaving Lowery in the dust as he threw his arms around his cousin. Stan's yelp was loud enough to pull Lowery from his reverie. The man wiped at a bloody smear on his glasses, stepping over Eddie's mangled corpse with nausea bridled only by denial.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Gray was an observant child in his own right. The youngest Mitchell stepped back, pinning Stan with a beleaguered expression. Then it hit him.

"You're bleeding. Oh my god, did the raptors get you?"

"Nah." Stan, pale as a full moon on a clear night, kept his arm tightly covered. Blood oozed between his fingers, "Blue wouldn't let them. This is just…that last shot clipped me. It's just a graze."

"Oh really?" Lowery snapped, "Then I'm sure you won't mind me having a look at it." He swiped at Stan's arm, satisfied with his hypothesis as the boy sidestepped his grip. "I knew it! Those animals are savages. I _told_ Owen they weren't safe!"

"Oh, give it a rest, Lowery." Stan scowled, shifting his weight to allow for Gray's presence as the boy huddled close anxiously, "Blue's raptors didn't do this. And anyway, Owen didn't even bring them here, so leave him out of it."

"Even better! Let me guess – he doesn't know you're here. Which means he isn't coming to back us up!"

The teenager blinked heavily, "He's kinda got his hands full."

Lowery rolled his eyes.

"Look, the guy can't be everywhere at once, for Christ's sake! Why does the fucking buck always have to stop with Owen? I mean, Jesus, he's only human!"

Stan's out-of-character burst of protective passion evoked an eyebrow raise from Lowery and a worried huff from Gray.

"What's going on out there? We heard the Raptors screaming."

"They were just itching for an in. Lucky I was around to open up. Now come on, we gotta go."

"Wait. The doors were on lock-down." Gray protested as the group hustled up the stairs. Below them, the Compys hissed and threw themselves at their confine's bars, Zane and Eddie's blood taunting them.

"How did you get in here to begin with?" Gray wanted to know. When they reached the ACU first floor, his question was answered. The doorway had been ripped to shreds, muscled into submission by the overwhelming force of the Raptor pack. Broken glass and twisted metal scraps lay copulating in scattered piles.

"I called in the cavalry." Stan felt the need to clarify.

Lowery let slip a low whistle as he took in the sight.

"Looks like the cavalry didn't need much calling." He ushered Gray forward, sweat mingled with blood, old and new, on the nape of his neck. They waded through a minefield of wreckage. "You guys holed up at HQ?"

"Yeah. You guys should be safe there."

"Wait. Aren't you coming with us?" Gray's brows furrowed in concern. It was amazing how much Stanley resembled his father at that moment – grim face, squared jaw, wild eyes. A sort of quiet purpose that as menacing as it was unpretentious.

"Gotta round up the cattle." Stan announced as they stepped into the terracotta, pre-storm lighting. Clouds rumbled, cloaking the sun as they did a rain dance in the sky.

A gunshot rang faint in the distance. Lowery, Gray and Stan exchanged anxious looks.

"Aunt Claire had to go get an egg." Gray whispered, breathless. "Is she out there now?"

"Don't worry about it." His quasi-cousin reassured him with a confident, almost bored expression, "That's what Owen's hands are full of."

* * *

Claire broke through the brush, sweat and dirt coating her alabaster skin. She exhaled, a puff of smoke in the dusty air, thick with the promise of a downpour. Her weapon hung slack against the curve of her hip.

She took in the view.

A vast stretch of dips in the ground pock-marked the earth before her. All cradling mottled ovals that nurtured the next generation of Hammond's Velociraptor. All unguarded. All ripe for the taking.

Claire steadied herself with sharp, deep breaths. She gripped a wall of crumbling red dirt for support as she inched towards the closest nest. A trio of eggs huddled together in its bed. The one on the far left caught a brief, dancing ray of orange sun.

Claire reached towards it, hand trembling, eyes moist. Her resolve was steel – and her resolve was all that mattered. Her fingertips kissed the cool, hard shell.

"Claire!"

Claire's eyes shut. A single tear escaped, left a trail in the grime on her cheek. "You don't understand." She kept her palm flat against the egg, head dipping to direct her words behind her, "I _have_ to, Owen."

She waited for his rebuttal. For a lecture on ethos and the value of prehistoric life.

Claire wasn't prepared for the warmth of Owen's hand on top of hers. She felt her body tense, jump with adrenalin.

"I get it." Owen's gaze, far from being remonstrative, was a mirror image of her own painful resignation. He didn't begrudge her the decision.

Claire cursed herself for even believing that he ever would.

But there was something else. A light – a flame. A forest fire.

"Tejeda wants an egg." Owen said grimly, determinedly, "Let's give him a goddamn egg."

* * *

 _ **I said it was short. Kill me with** **kindness** **in your feedback if you must. - Ty x**_


	12. Chapter 12

Zack Mitchell tried to still the racing of his pulse as he watched his little brother race Lowery up the staircase. The cam footage was grainy, but it afforded Zack the assurance he needed.

"You're a doofus." Was the curt greeting Gray received. It was offset by the tight embrace his older sibling wrapped him in as they entered the Control Room. Harsh lines streaked from Zack's squinting eyes as he held the kid at arms' length, "You okay?"

"I'm fine." Lowery snapped, "Thanks for asking."

"I didn't."

"Guys, we need a plan." Gray was back to mediator again. The huff to his tone suggested the role was getting old fast. "Aunt Claire went to get Tejeda a Raptor's Egg, Owen went after her, and Stan went after him!"

"Look, relax, okay?" Zack gripped his shoulder, "Claire wouldn't be that stupid."

Lowery blinked at the young man, "I'm sorry – are we talking about the same person?"

"This coming from you? I can't believe you left Stan alone with those raptors!"

"Why is it automatically my job to do something about that?"

"You're an _adult_ , for Christ's sake!" Zack lost his cool, "Stan took a huge risk bailing you out and you _abandoned_ him! But you know what, though Lowery? The worst part is that I'm not even surprised."

"Right, so I was just meant to let your little squirt of a brother hoof it on his own, is that it?"

The bickering began again. Gray was tired of it. He retreated into his subconscious, his surroundings becoming louder. He ambled past his brother to the control room screens displaying the camera footage.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

Perimeter breach lights that had been set off by the Raptors were still flashing on the display. Only now, they heralded the coming of another foe entirely. Gray's eyes ran wild as he followed the identifying list of incoming predators.

Packys.

Baryonyx.

A rush of teeth and claws gunning for first place.

A stampede of malnourished carnivores all pushing through an open sentry tower.

"He forgot to close the door." Gray whispered to himself.

Over the past year, Zack had learned to listen to his brother's quiet observations. He waved a hand at Lowery to silence their feud.

"What'd you say, buddy?"

Gray pointed a finger at the screen, "Stan. He forgot to close the door."

Zack sucked in a breath, processing the realization. "No, he didn't." He punched at the keyboard to confirm his suspicions, clutching at his hair with his free hand.

"That's not the door Stan opened."

"Then who opened it?" The tremor in Gray's voice suggested he already knew the answer.

Lowery gripped the edge of the swivel chair, mouth grim as he watched the rabid meat-eaters tear through the park.

"Diego Tejeda."

* * *

Dusk was beginning to settle by the time Owen and Claire reached the Wall. Claire's rucksack sagged against the small of her back. She ground to a halt in tandem with Owen as the man stopped dead.

"What is it?"

Owen was staring at the mangled mess of tracks on the ground, brow knit darkly.

"Company."

Claire's head jerked up at a fierce shriek from inside. It was drowned out by other, guttural calls that sent chills down her spine. She clutched Owen's bicep, sweat and dirt and blood coating her fingers.

Then, a voice, loud and insistent and fearful.

"Stop!"

Claire broke into a run. Owen was on her tail, beside her, in front of her. The adrenalin pumping through her blood sustained her, pushing her exhausted limbs into action. They ran through brush and branches, pausing only to regain their bearings as the primal sounds around grew louder.

"Claire…"

"This way!" She took point, tearing up overgrown pathways. A long tail flicked barely meters ahead. The Raptor was moving away from them, bounding furiously towards an unknown target. Owen overtook her, muscle cording beneath tattered, filthy clothes as he sprinted on. They cleared the greenery, stumbling onto the crumbling plaza that was Jurassic World's former center court. A group of desperate, bone-thin Packys were at war with Blue's pack. Dome-shaped craniums versus razor-sharp talons made for a scene so ugly Claire and Owen both felt sick at beholding.

It was a blood bath.

Chest heaving, Claire hazarded a glance at Owen. Horrified bewilderment became outrage as he watched Blue leap into action to defend a pack member that had been injured by a vicious head-butt. His gun butt lifted.

"Blue!"

Claire swore she heard two voices shout the name. And, as usual, Claire was right.

Stanley was hovering at the opposite end of the battlefield. He clutched a wad of lit flares in one fist and a stun prod in the other. Before the warring dinosaurs could react to his presence, he hurled the flares into their midst. Confusion erupted. The beasts shrieked and hissed and cawed, each shrinking from the spitting red lights rolling at their feet. The crackling end of a stun prod drove away the few in need of convincing. Blue had already called her pack to fall back. The skirmish was evaded – for now.

Claire released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She was vaguely aware of Owen running break-neck-speed after the Raptors and quickly regained control.

"Are you guys okay?" Stan was asking. He looked as breathless as she felt. Claire spotted the sloppy bandage on the young man's arm, the fresh blood trickling down his wrist, onto his fingers.

"Are _we_ okay?" She spat, "What the hell happened to _you_?"

He seemed surprised to receive the admonition from her instead of Owen. Tough frigging luck. Claire was feeling as step-maternal as she was _ever_ going to feel at that moment and it was _not_ in Stanley's favor to contradict her.

" _Please_ tell me that is not an egg!" The boy was pointing at her rucksack with his stun prod.

"Please tell _me_ what exactly is going on!" She retorted.

"Look, Gray and Lowery are busted out, okay? Tejeda has no leverage!" Stan was wide-eyed, square-jawed, "You guys don't have to do this."

His bravado – which Claire had to admit she found begrudgingly admirable – seemed only fortified as Owen returned, breathless, to the courtyard.

"They broke up at the turn-off. We gotta get to Gray and Lowery before they…"

"Gray and Lowery are okay!" Stan repeated, winded, "They should be back at HQ by now! If we hurry, we can get there before dark and see if Eric found a boat." The last word petered into a whisper at the look on Owen's face.

"Wait a minute. Was this _you_?"

Stan looked as though he desperately wanted to deny the accusation, to explain. Instead, he wore a feral glare, "You after an apology? Go fish!"

Claire's thoughts were with her nephews, "We don't have time for this! Let's _go_!"

It took a long time for her to erase the look that passed between Owen and Stanley from her memory. But she moved them all past it, taking the lead with the natural grace she'd always possessed. Claire broke into a run, weapon at the ready as faint, animalistic chatter echoed through the streets.

They passed ACU – fragments of the puzzle surrounding their brief absence from the Park. Claire could hear the shrieks from the basement echo up from the stairwell. The shredded doorway granted access to a pair of Baryonyx playing tug-of-war over a booted limb. Claire's stomach knotted, lurching at the sight.

"Holy shit." Owen breathed beside her, watching the sickening display.

"Should we see if there are survivors?" She ventured.

"Not unless you plan on putting them out of their misery with a bullet." Stan's matter-of-fact comment was grim, "Trust me – we're the only ones who made it out."

Owen was looking at his child as though Stan had grown a second head. With tentacles. And gnashing teeth.

"And Tejeda?"

"He and Merlin were gone before we got there."

" _We_ being you and a bunch of bloodthirsty dinosaurs.'

"Next time I'll toss a motorcycle in the mix to get it past the Owen Grady Prehistoric Geneva Convention."

"Is that right?" Owen didn't sound annoyed. He sounded quiet. Perturbed, even. Which was ten times more foreboding.

"Okay, so Tejeda and Merlin are still out there. What about Lowery and Gray?" Claire interrupted, "Are you sure they made it to HQ?"

"I didn't exactly hold their hands all the way there." Her step-son was already turning his back on the carnage and heading to the trail. "But I'm ninety-five percent certain that they made it."

Claire opened her mouth to say something, but Owen shook his head.

Guns raised, they stuck to cover as they wove their way through the park. The trashed lobby of HQ housed a couple of rogue Packys as they pawed and nosed through the rubble. Navigating a course around the thick-skulled dinos proved significantly easier than outwitting the raptors would've been.

The final flight of stairs seemed like it would never end. It did. Zack threw open the door to the control room and grunted as Claire choked him in an embrace.

"Oh, thank goodness."

"Okay, Claire, you're kind of…a lot stronger than I remember." He wheezed.

"Good. That means this is going to hurt more." She delivered a stinging smack upside her nephew's skull. Zack grinned, unfazed.

"Man, he is _really_ rubbing off on you." He nodded at Owen.

"I'll take that as a compliment." Claire moved past him to reunite with Gray, who was standing beside Lowery as the tech expert worked the screens.

"Are you alright?"

Gray 'shhed' her in response, "We've almost got it."

"Almost got what?"

"Radio contact."

Claire frowned, "With who?"

Gray pointed to a red blip advancing steadily on the ocean radar screen. "With that."

Stan, who had been quiet up till that point, suddenly found his way to the computer. "It's Eric. It has to be."

"Could be Fisher." Lowery disagreed, "Starsky and Hutch here got word to her before we left port."

"There's a third option nobody seems to want to mention." Owen joined the discussion, "Tejeda had offshore contacts. For all we know, that right there's his cavalry."

"Well, it's a good thing they'll have a sharp-toothed, hard-skulled welcome committee." Stan sounded almost bored.

"Yeah, but I'm guessing Fisher might not be as fond of the idea." Lowery keyed in some final digits and fiddled with an earpiece, "Okay. I think I've got'em. I'm going to try and make contact."

"What's in there?" Gray tugged at the straps of Claire's rucksack, and she backed away.

"Oh, sweetie, you shouldn't touch that."

"Why not? Is it a Raptor egg? Oh my god." The boy's widened at Claire's uncomfortable silence, "it is, isn't it?"

"What?" Zack's eyes snapped between his aunt and Owen, " _Please_ tell me you guys did not bring a stolen Raptor egg in here."

"Listen," Claire informed him calmly, "all you need to know right now is that everything's under control."

"Don't patronize me."

"Hello?" Lowery's call interrupted the discussion, "Unidentified vessel, this is Isla Nublar HQ. Do you copy? I repeat, do you copy? Come in, over."

Gray 'shhed' the others before anybody had a chance to utter so much as a squeak. Lowery repeated himself twice, three times. He shook his head.

"They're not responding."

"Maybe you were right." Gray cast a dubious glance up at Owen, who placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Or maybe," Stan inserted a matter-of-fact alternative, "they just know Tejeda's tapped the radio frequencies and don't want him picking up on their approach."

"Only Eric would know that." Claire mused.

"Well, whoever they are," Owen spoke up, "if Tejeda's listening, he'll know they're out there now."

"If we track their trajectory, we can pinpoint their location and beat Tejeda to it."

Stan's proposal was met by a nod from his cousin.

"If it's Eric, it might be our only shot." Zack reasoned.

"And if it's not?" Owen didn't agree, "We'll be walking into a trap."

"He's right. It's too risky." From Claire.

Stanley's next suggestion was slightly too practical to be ignored, "Obviously, if we all go, our chances of getting made are pretty high. If just one of us went down to the coast to scout it…"

"You seem to think it should be you." Owen was wound tight. It was hovering on the edge of his tone as he spoke far too evenly, calmly.

"I'm the one who dealt with Eric. It's just common sense."

"I'm running the radar signature through our database to try and get match." Lowery offered, "That might help narrow it down. But honestly, we're running out of time here."

"What do you mean?" Gray narrowed his eyes.

"The emergency generators were meant to power HQ, a couple cams, and the electric voltage on the wall. That's it. We've drained a huge amount of power running all the Park's main cams and street lights." Lowery wiped at his bloodshot eyes, "I give it another day, maybe a day and half before it's Game Over."

"We need to get off this island tonight." Owen muttered, "Even without Tejeda and Merlin on our backs, it's gonna be a nightmare trying to skirt around the Packys, Baryonyx _and_ the Raptors to make it to the coast."

"Do we have another choice?" Zack wondered aloud.

Claire pressed her lips together, watching the setting sun cloak the Packys in the lobby as they milled about. The outer cameras painted a tranquil picture of nature grinding to a halt in the light of the dusk.

"East." Lowery clapped his hands, stabbing a finger at a white marker on a digital map, "Looks like they're going to dock about two miles upshore. It's outside the Wall parameters, but it's not that wide a margin. Herbivore territory, too."

"Seems like a legitimate place to hunker down for a low-key rendezvous." Claire murmured to Owen, catching his gaze, "I think we should check it out."

"They'll make the coast in approximately twenty minutes," Lowery assessed, "so whatever we're gonna do, we'd better make it snappy."

Zack winced at the sloppy bandage on Stan's arm, "Oh, really? Jesus, what'd you go and do now?" He muttered out of hearing of the others.

"I got nicked by a bullet."

"Looks nasty."

"Hurts like hell. Bleeding's pretty much stopped, though."

"Dude, you are, like, a walking magnet for disaster."

"I prefer 'accident-prone'."

"I prefer 'moron'."

"Stan? Zack? Anything you care to share with the group?" Lowery was obviously relishing being back in everybody's good books and was touting airs and graces with a vengeance.

"Herpes."

"Excuse me?" Claire was repulsed.

"Just giving Lowery some ideas for his next Show and Tell." Zack moved swiftly on, despite his aunt's disgusted expression and Lowery's glare. "Look, I think we should all just make a run for it. This whole 'some of us stay here, some of us get captured' thing is getting us nowhere. We can do a Roman turtle for all I care. I just want off this island!"

"We don't know for sure that boat is Eric. It could be Tejeda's crew from Puntarenas." His aunt objected.

"So? We're sitting ducks up here, and, like Lowery said, the power isn't gonna last forever."

"He's right." Owen sounded less than thrilled to admit it, "We've got to risk it."

"Maybe so, but there's no reason we can't be smart about it, too."

"I have an idea." Gray's quiet offering was met with looks ranging from fond to condescending, "But I'm pretty sure almost everyone is going to hate it."

"Well isn't that promising?" Lowery scoffed "Who exactly is the lucky individual that's going to like it?"

The boy tossed a knowing look at Stanley.

"He is."

Claire didn't need to be looking at Owen to picture the expression he was wearing.

She figured she was wearing it herself.


	13. Chapter 13

_**I lost my way with this and went off the grid. Sorry about that. But I love it (and all of you) too much to shelve it! Just wanted to say it was the reviews from readers, old and new, that lit the fire again. I didn't want to just serve you some half-baked crap after such a long wait so it took a little longer than I wanted. Nevertheless, here it is. More epic Hollywood action served with a side of banter. I'm still feeling a bit tender about it, although I adored writing it, all so be gentle if you can.**_

 _ **Disclaimer: Before you hit the review button angrily, just know that we are not even close to done with this fic. We're just taking the action elsewhere.**_

* * *

Nightfall on Isla Nublar always traced itself like a cold finger down your spine. Symphonies of nocturnal wildlife conducted by the evening hunt. Teeth, claws, shadows in the starlight. Its breath, a mist of mosquitos and earth, soaked Claire's sunburned skin.

She clutched her weapon tight, watched the man she loved staring into the jungle. Hands on his hips, broad shoulders spread, muscles corded under the t-shirt clinging to his sweat.

"You know it made sense."

"Uh huh."

Splitting up the group had been Gray's idea. One group would go ahead, make for the coast. The second would trail behind, ready to back them up if it turned out to be a trap. Most people had actually seen the merit in Gray's plan (with the exception of Lowery, who had wanted to discuss the merits of Zack's 'roman turtle' theory - despite Zack's insistence that he had not seriously brought it up as a viable option 'considering their lack of spears and shields, among other things'). The point at which the discussion had turned hairy was when they had to divide up teams.

"I think Stan should go with the coast team." Gray had explained, "He's on best terms with Eric. And Blue kind of, sort of, listens to him now, which would be a plus if we run into any Raptors."

"One of us should also go, in case it's Fisher." Zack had offered.

"Yeah, I should probably head up the team, you know. It's probably a good idea to have an adult on board." Lowery proposed magnanimously. His generous offer was met with loud coughs of disapproval from the Mitchells. "What?"

"30 minutes ago, you wouldn't even share a Twinkie with Stan because you thought his bad karma might be contagious through direct contact!" Zack argued.

"Bad karma? I was talking about oral herpes. The kid is breaking out!"

"I have one cold sore." Stan ground out, "One."

"Wait, that's a cold sore?" Owen motioned to his own chin in a mirroring gesture at the red blemish forming on Stan's mouth.

"What did you think it was?"

"Well, with your luck, some kind of bubonic plague resurfacing. And how exactly did you catch herpes?"

"Oh my god! It's just a virus. I get them when I'm stressed, okay?" Stan threw up a hand and winced painfully as he pulled at his wound. He caught himself when he saw Owen step forward anxiously, "See, this is exactly why you're not coming. You get way too paranoid. It's just going to slow us down."

"Paranoid?" Owen's eyebrows shot up. Claire laid a hand on his arm.

"It's fine, honey..."

"Eleven stitches." Owen stabbed a finger at his son's head for emphasis. Stan pawed at the scar with a glare.

"Owen, yes, we know, okay?" Claire placated.

"Eleven!"

"Everybody gets it, honey."

"You drag my unconscious ass out of a dinosaur bathtub and spoon-feed me jelly for a week, and we can talk about paranoid!"

"That wasn't spoon-feeding." Stan snapped, "That was force-feeding."

"Blocking your nose so you open your mouth doesn't count as forcing!" Owen crossed his arms defensively, voice lowering sheepishly as Claire scowled at him, "He needed fluids. Phil said that it was cool."

Gray pushed his way back into the conversation, "Aunt Claire, you and Owen need to head up the back-up team. And please, please take Lowery with you! If anyone's gonna slow us down, it's him!"

"Hey!" Lowery snapped.

"Okay, we are not sending you, Gray and Stan alone." Claire had stated flatly.

"Admit it," Her nephew accused, "you just don't want Lowery!"

"That, too." Owen had no problem admitting it.

"It's like Little League team-pick all over again." Lowery mumbled.

The squabbling had continued until the Baryonyx in the lobby had discovered the staircase. The group had put aside their differences long enough to distract the animals with a holograph. Negotiations had been streamlined after that. The vessel had made shore and while a signal was still lacking, time restraints had helped settle the dispute.

Claire would go with Stan and Grey. Owen, Zack and Lowery were back-up.

Claire squeezed her fiancé's hand. "We'll be fine." She assured him in a quiet voice.

Predictably, he'd said nothing more than a curt, "Be careful." She nodded, trying to blink back tears at the detached farewell.

It wasn't till they'd reached the foot of the ladder they'd scaled down to avoid their lobby guests that Owen had grabbed hold of her wrist. Tugged her into a kiss that was fierce and kind and gentle all at once. Claire was still catching her breath as Owen cupped her face in his hands once before letting her go without another word.

* * *

Sticking to cover, the group trudged wearily towards the coordinates Lowery had given them. Claire caught up to Stan as they hiked. She took a deep breath.

"How's the view up there?"

"Up where?"

"Up on that high horse you're riding."

"Look, if this is a speech about how my behaviour is reckless and dangerous and how selfish I'm being to put Owen through all of this..."

"I understand his double standards can be...challenging at times." Claire pushed at an overhanging branch in her path, "He means well, Stanley."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

"So what is this, some ill-advised attempt at teaching Owen a lesson?"

Stan snorted, "As if he'd ever learn. No. This is me pulling my own weight, which apparently still manages to stress him out somehow. And he calls you control freak."

"Well, he's your father. It's his job to care of you, not the other way around."

"I'm not taking care of him. I'm just taking care of myself."

She tugged him gently to a halt, "You might have convinced yourself that this about taking some kind of stand. But you haven't fooled your father and you definitely don't fool me."

A bemused smile, a furrow of the eyebrows, "Okay."

"You've been off since he showed you the garage." Claire looked over her shoulder at a whisper from Gray as the boy overtook them, "It's okay to feel things."

"Really?" His tone changed from bored to passive-aggressive in the blink of an eye, "Who exactly did you lose?"

The question caught her off her guard.

"See, I wouldn't know, would I?" Stan's tone was even, deliberate, "Seems like you and Owen want me to break down and cry, talk about my mom, my feelings..."

"Holding it in isn't doing you any favours."

"What's my favourite colour?"

"It...I don't see what..."

"Favourite band? Political party? Holiday spot?"

"Well..." Claire didn't appreciate being shown up, "it isn't Isla Nublar."

"My mom's been dead nine months." Stan calmly explained. "You and Owen have known me for, what, a third of that? What do you really know about me?" He cut her off as she struggled with an answer, "As little as I know about you. It's really nothing personal. As much as we all get along, we're just acquaintances. No shame in it, no one's fault." He shrugged as he moved past her, "Just the way it is right now."

* * *

"Lowery. Zack! Would you keep up, for Christ's sake?"

The tech expert rubbed at his sweaty face and clasped onto Zack's shoulder, "Okay..." Lowery wheezed, "Seriously, you gotta say something to him."

"What?"

"Look, I don't know about you, but I can't take much more of Slave Driver Grady and the Quest to Make us all Pass Out."

"That is just...really inappropriate."

"Well excuse me, Mr Social Justice Warrior - I might be a little more politically correct if I could still feel my feet!"

"What is the hold up?" Owen had doubled back, peeved, "We're gonna lose the trail!"

"Zack, please." Lowery panted, "Seriously. I'm seeing double right now."

Owen looked askance at his nephew. Zack heaved a giant sigh.

"Can we talk and walk?"

"Probably best to stick to walking. From the looks of things, you two ain't up to both."

The chatter of a tree-dwelling creature drowned out Lowery's response. Zack caught up to his uncle, eyes shifting into the dark around them.

"I didn't tell my mom I loved her."

"Come again?"

"Before I left. This time round, I mean. She said 'I love you'. I didn't say it back. I said 'uh huh'."

Owen snapped a branch sprawled across their pathway, "Is this going somewhere?"

"Kids can be a little selfish sometimes, is all I'm saying. We don't mean it mostly. I mean, sometimes we do. Don't get me wrong. Everything I say to Lowery is pretty much legit..."

Owen stopped the boy with a palm on the chest, eyes peeled and ears primed, "Do you hear that?"

Zack's heart rate soared, "What is it?"

"The sound of unsolicited advice."

The oldest Mitchell huffed, put out. "I'm just saying that maybe Stan's feeling a little smothered and is trying to step out of your shadow and, you know, actually be helpful for a change."

"Helpful." Owen tossed the word in his mouth like a toffee.

"Yeah. And while I'm far from Stanley's biggest fan, he's actually doing an okay job."

"You guys... Lowery stumbled into the group, "...you gotta...stop it now. Honest...you walk really fast when you argue." He turned to Zack, "Way to go, Mitchell. You were supposed to talk him down, not wind him up even more!"

"Shh." Owen held a finger to his lips, "Something's coming."

"Don't tell me; an unwanted opinion."

Zack was shoved unceremoniously to the ground just in time to avoid the sweeping beam of a flashlight.

"Tejeda." Lowery's breath was hot in his ear, "It's gotta be."

A sharp glance from Owen caught in the search light and shut him up.

It was Tejeda. Even with his limp, the man still moved like a king. He nodded at Merlin and a third compatriot as they floated through the brush.

The trip moved fast despite their injuries, hacking through foliage and vanishing from sight. Owen's eyes darted from their trail to the coast and narrowed.

"They're leaving the island."

"You think the ride is theirs?" Zack was already on his feet.

"Only one way to find out."

"Wait...what way exactly?" Demanded Lowery.

Owen stilled, ears pricking at a phantom shriek. He altered their course sharply to fall in line behind Tejeda.

"You and Zack stick to the plan. Follow the others to the coast like we decided. Soon as I'm sure Tejeda isn't gonna be your Meet-and-Greet, I'll come and join you."

Zack started to protest, but, to his surprise, Lowery beat him to it.

"Yeah, and when Claire and Stan find out you split from the group, they're gonna be all 'Oh my god, Dad!' and 'Oh my god, Owen' and 'How could you guys just let him run off by himself' and 'we have to go save him' and 'if we're not back in half an hour, leave without us' and you know what, Owen? That shit is getting real old!"

"Okay." The dino expert looked surprised at the lecture, "You're right. We should stick to the plan. I just thought I heard...never mind."

Lowery's silent self-congratulation made enough white noise for Zack to move downwind...

Just in time to avoid the bullet that whizzed past his nose. A nearby palm trunk took the hit.

Nobody needed the patronizing cry of 'get down' that too often proceeded gunfire. And nobody was stupid enough to blow the cover of the night to shout it out. Human instinct kicked in. Lowery and Zack rolled behind the nearest bush. Owen had already disappeared into the black.

Tejeda's team had also gone dark. The faintest rustle, the imperceptible snap of twig - every sound made Zack Mitchell's blood pump faster.

A sudden gunshot. Singular. Silence.

A second one. It glanced off the rotting palm Lowery had sheltered behind. A shower of wood splintered his skin. He army-crawled to a drop in the turf and rolled, blind, down a grassy dip.

Zack was torn between checking the man was still alive or keeping cover. His breath came in loud, traitorous spurts.

A second gunshot. This time, a restrained yelp. The thud of a body hitting the ground. Return fire. Zack cradled his head in his forearms as shattered rock hailed down around him.

No confused calls of 'Where is he?', 'Where did he go?'. Tejeda's men, much like Tejeda himself, stayed sharp, lurking in the dark. Owen remained a ghost. The silence was pregnant with fear.

A click. The clatter of something solid tumbling into the foliage, Zack guessed a meter off. A hand grabbed his arm, steely fingers bruising skin. He couldn't help the yell that left his throat as he was shoved mercilessly off the same drop-edge as Lowery.

He was still falling as the orange flame swallowed the treetops above his head. The explosion drew blood from his ears.

Water broke his fall. His assailant - or his rescuer - hit the surface beside him. The impact was a hundred blunt needles lodged in a baseball bat. He broke through the foam, gasping for breath. Those fingers found him again, less painful, just as urgent. Owen hoisted the young man beside him, steering them both through the water to hide below an overhanging bank.

Zack could see them now. The search light beamed into life again, scanning the gentle ripples. He sucked in a breath in time with Owen, ducking under to avoid being seen. Light illuminated the water around them, catching swarms of oblivious fish in its glow. Their graceful movements were cut short by a hail of gunfire.

Bullets swam around them like birds of prey swooping for an aquatic kill. Owen swam beside him, one hand still fixed to Zack's shoulder. The bullets followed them, as did the light. Zack's lungs burned, but he knew certain death awaited him if he surfaced.

Just when his vision was beginning to cloud over, something yanked his wrist. Zack was hauled through the water into an air pocket nestled in the cliff face. Owen was dragged behind him.

Lowery tugged them further in, clinging to roots strung against the island's underbelly. The tree of them treaded water, watching with bated breath as the dreaded search light finally disappeared.

"We can follow this ridge down to the coast." Lowery muttered, "On my way downstream, I'm pretty sure I heard a motor in the distance. Think our ride's not too far off."

"Good call." Owen turned to Zack, "You okay?"

The young man nodded, adrenalin waning and leaving him feeling weak and shaky. The water was soothing as it lapped against his skin.

"Let's go home."

* * *

"Stan?" Claire called, frustrated, in a whisper-yell for what felt like the millionth time. Her future step-son had blazed a trail ahead of her and Gray and had been MIA for at least ten minutes too long. "Goddamn it, Stan. We were meant to stay together!"

"I think I saw him up ahead." Gray offered.

Claire froze in her tracks.

"Did you hear that?" She whispered. Beside her, Gray licked dry, chapped lips, eyes darting wildly.

"There it is again." The boy proclaimed in dismay at the faint sound of gunfire.

"Shh." Claire raised a hand, ears primed. Silence resumed.

Suddenly, a plume of fire burst through the treetops in the distance behind them. The ground shuddered beneath their feet. Gray latched onto Claire's arm, jumping at the sight.

"Oh god." She breathed.

"Please tell me Owen had a grenade on him." Gray aimed the desperate hope at his aunt.

"Stan?" Claire searched the jungle around her frantically, "Stanley!" A sudden hand on her shoulder made her leap, fist clenched as she spun around.

It was Stan.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I found him!" He was panting, sweat beading on his temple, "I found Eric. He brought help. The Feds are coming. He's right down there, you see that light?" The young man wrestled with a palm branch, exposing a blinking red beacon about fifty yards downhill.

"Okay, listen to me. You take Gray and you get to the boat." Claire instructed, "I'll be back as soon as I..." Her sentence ended in a startled cry as Stan unceremoniously pushed her down the sandy slope.

"Meet you there." His unrepentant call echoed after her as she somersaulted towards the dock. Gray collided with her halfway down and the two landed unceremoniously in a pile of wet sand.

Claire spat beige grains and sea salt as she sat up. Gray moaned and rubbed his head where it had bumped her elbow. Quivering with a range of emotions - of which fear and anger took precedence - Claire rose to her feet. She spotted Eric bobbing with the tide aboard his vessel, silhouetted in the faint red light he was waving at her.

"Come on. You need to get on board." Claire gripped her nephew's hand, cutting him off as he attempted to protest, "Agent Fisher's on her way, remember? The rest of us are going to be right behind you, I promise."

"Aunt Claire, that's not..."

"For God's sake! Is it too much to ask that one of you, just one of you listen to common sense for a minute?" She snapped in a whisper, "I mean, it's one thing putting up with from Owen, but..."

Gray's frantic dive knocked the wind out of Claire. They tumbled into the same sand dune they'd landed in earlier. Gray kept a tight grip on Claire, eyes wide and pleading as she opened her mouth to express surprise. It only took a moment for her to realize what her nephew had been short enough to notice from his angle.

Diego Tejeda and Merlin, battered and limping and clutching something between them, appeared at the dock. The events that followed were methodical and ruthless and over before they began. One gunshot later and Eric's lifeless body toppled overboard. Claire covered Gray's mouth as he let out a whimper. Tejeda tucked his weapon away and relieved Merlin of his burden. The moon peeked through a cloud, illuminating the squirming bundle.

A baby raptor. Freshly hatched, slime still dripping from its scales. It clicked softly in its throat and appeared to nuzzle Tejeda's collarbone. The sight made Claire nauseous beyond belief.

Tejeda had almost reached the boat when Gray lost it.

"We can't let them. We can't let them do this!" He leapt to his feet. "Hey! Stop!"

"Gray!" Claire screamed, fear curdling her blood as the boy sprang into the moonlight.

"Leave it alone!" Tears streamed down his face, fists balled by his side, "Let it go! It's just a little baby!"

Tejeda was already aboard. Merlin, at the foot of the dock, raised his gun. Claire's thoughts ran a hundred miles a minute, suddenly stilling as clarity gripped her like an iron fist. She yanked the backpack off her shoulders, jammed a hand inside, then hurled a dark object at Merlin with all her might.

The flying leap was powered by her desperation. It propelled her forward as she smashed into Gray, sending them both hurtling behind the sand bank. The explosion was small. A handmade bomb that she, Owen and Lowery had thrown together from the tech in the Control room. But it was powerful enough to knock Merlin off his feet and launch him against a rock.

He didn't get back up again.

Sand and soot choked the air around them. Claire ran her hands over Gray's face and shoulders, his arms, through his hair. Tears stained the smoky hue on her face as she kissed his forehead. As the dust began to settle, her nephew gave a strangled cry.

"He's getting away!"

Tejeda had cast off, not sparing a backwards glance for his fallen allegiant. The powerboat cut through the water as it sped into the night.

"It's okay." Claire was still relieving the heart-stopping vision of Merlin's gun barrel aiming at Gray's head. She hugged him to her tightly, "Let him go. It'll be okay."

"It won't!" He sobbed, finally allowing his emotions to burst, "Zack and Owen and Lowery - they're dead! They're dead, I know it! He killed them!"

"Look at me. Hey!" She cupped his face in her hands, "Look at me! They are not dead. Do you hear me?"

"Aunt Claire!" The boy raised a finger at the milky shoreline. Blinding lights dotted the coast.

The feds were on their way.

* * *

Stan tore frantically through the dense jungle of Isla Nublar. Branches nipped at his face, tore at his clothes. The bullet graze on his arm spurted freshly-pumping blood, soaking through the bandage.

Keep going.

Owen had. Claire had.

He would.

"Dad!"

The smell of charred earth grew stronger. Stan followed the trail of flickering fires scattered through a totalled clearing. A body lay in a smoking heap against a tree stump. Stan knew by the clothing it wasn't any of the missing back-up team. Relief began to rear its head.

"Dad!" He yelled again, stumbling to a halt at the bank of the stream he'd followed back inland. "Zach! Lowery!"

The minute he paused to catch his breath, it hit him. Agonizing waves of white hot pain crashed against Stan's skull, blinding him. The migraine was back with a vengeance. It forced Stan to his knees in the moist soil. He puked into the water, his empty stomach yielding bile that burned his throat before he curled into a ball.

He didn't know how long he lay there. The ground turned cool beneath his throbbing head. The clouds danced in the moonlight, casting shadows over the Isla Nublar night as it wore on.

Suddenly, something cold and hard nudged Stan's injured arm. A strangled gasp of pain escaped him as he forced his eyes into a squint.

It was Blue. The horizon was pinkening against a rich navy blue, hinting at a sunrise.

The Raptor nudged him again, cocking her head at his cry. Her talons tapped at ground impatiently, yellow eyes watching Stan's efforts to pull himself to his feet.

"Blue..." He only managed to roll onto his stomach, "find Owen. He's in trouble."

The Raptor titled her head disdainfully before dipping her neck to bump Stan's arm a third time.

"Stop!" He shut his eyes against the pain again, "Go help Owen. Go!"

Now Blue was riled. She shrieked in Stan's face, her stale breath warming his skin. For a moment, he wondered in his delirium if she had finally decided to demote him from Alpha Jr to Dinner. Instead, she shoved her snout fully under Stan's arm, her long neck arching to support his front. As Blue rose, Stan rose with her.

The migraine was waning. Stan opened both eyes, dragged a hand across his mouth and leaned on Blue for support. It was only then that he noticed a tattered piece of his long-discarded hoodie knotted loosely around the Raptor's neck. The realization set in to his pain-addled mind that Blue had been sent to track him down.

Stan knew of only one person capable of siccing Blue, Alpha Raptor, on a hunt.

Relief and apprehension gave each other a cautious nod in Stanley's head as he followed Blue through the darkness.

"Don't tell me." He muttered to the Raptor, patting her scaly hide as he regained his senses, "Man almost gets himself blown up and yet, somehow, I'm the one in trouble."

* * *

 _ **Remember, we still have a long way to go. Try not to slaughter me - Ty**_


	14. Chapter 14

So hubby decided I was fancy enough to go back to school at the ripe old age of 29 (we had a kid really young, okay?). Been sinking my teeth into a Bachelor's in English Lit and Creative Writing since Christmas which is why this story went dark again. Just sent off my first assignment and churrned this all out in two days as I had missed it terribly! Review and keep me going! Love you all x - Ty

* * *

Their destination was inevitable. Blue marched Stan along the coast with all the airs of an annoyed sibling. The pace was merciless. Stan was sure his side was littered with bruises from the amount of shoving the Raptor was doing.

"Why are you so mad at me?" He demanded, slapping Blue's face away after the fifth shove in as many minutes. Regretting the action instantly, he winced. Blue hissed at him.

"No! I stopped that asshole Jorge from stealing your eggs. I let your pack into the Park so you could help Owen out." Stan insisted, "What exactly is your beef with me?"

Usually, Blue would have blinked contemptuously. This time, the Raptor was clearly not in the mood. The shriek was deafening, fierce. She was inches from Stan's face, a clean swipe of her tail knocking him onto his ass. The Raptor stamped her foot and hissed at Stan one final time before taking a step back and indicating at the trail with a jolt of her head.

Stan swallowed his racing heartbeat and stood up cautiously. "Alright. Jesus." He held up a hand as Blue snarled at him, "I'm going!"

They reached the clearing, sand catching the rising sun like a line of crushed ice. Stan blew out a breath. The Costa Rican coast guard were out in full force. At least five boats bobbed in a row. Armed, suited and booted, men and women prowled the shoreline. A body, zipped into a bag, was being hauled away. Paramedics were treating a group of blanket-covered individuals. A defibulator was being used nearby, presumable in an attempt to resucitate.

Resucitate who?

Stan was overwhelmed. He barely had time to process what he was seeing before Blue unceremoniously shoved him down the sandy hill with her snout. He tumbled, failing to regain footing as he landed face first in a pile of sand.

"Seriously?" Stan muttered between mouthfuls of sand. He glared up, but Blue was already gone. He shook his head, "Typical."

"Hands up!" A man and woman, both sporting the gear of the Costa Rican coast guard, were aiming handguns in his direction. They jogged towards him, "Don't move!"

"Well, make up your mind!"

"What did you say to me?" The woman snapped as she reached Stan, already pulling out a pair of cuffs.

"Well first you said 'hands up' and then you said...never mind." He groaned between closed lips as she yanked his injured arm behind his back, snapping the cuffs over his wrists.

"Is 'shut up' clear enough for you?"

"Crystal."

"Detective." The woman hauled Stan down the beach, "Found him hiding by the bluff."

The bullet-proof vest was emblazoned with tall, white lettering. Agent Fisher looked him up and down.

"Nice of you to join us." She nodded, "He's fine."

Stan rubbed at his wrists after they were grudgingly freed, "Where's..."

"Over there." Fisher gestured with her head. He broke into a jog, heading towards the swarm of paramedics. A booted foot was twitching on the ground. Stan shoved his way through.

"We've got a heartbeat!" One of the medics called.

"Pupils are responding." A bright light was waved around.

"Eric." Stan took in the blood, wet clothes, purple lips. "What happened to him?"

"You need to come away." Gloved hands, cold and wet on his skin, pulled at him.

Shoved out of the circle, Stan searched for other survivors. He fended off attempts from paramedics to treat the blood-soaked bandage on his arm.

Lowery was the first one to spot him.

"Stanley! Over here!" A foil blanket around his shoulders, cracked glasses pushed up his nose. Something resembling algae in his hair. Stan resisted the urge to hug him.

"Where the hell have you been? Do you realize we've had people scowering the island for you all night?"

The urge faded fast.

"Just what did you think you were doing? We had a plan. Everybody stuck to it. But not you, oh no! Stan the Man is just too cool for school, is that it?"

Stan had tuned out after the first sentence. He spotted Zack and Gray. The younger one was sobbing inconsolably into his arms. Zack had wrapped his blanket around them both and was exchanging heated words with a coast guard officer.

Stan had barely stepped towards them when he was accosted by a slap to his head. Putting up a hand just in time to block a second and third, he turned to face none other than a furious Claire Dearing.

"What is wrong with you?" She punctuated each word with another slap, each missing their target and bouncing off Stan's arms.

"Easy!" He jumped backwards, palms up.

"'I'll meet you there'?" Claire was still livid, "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"What happened? Where's Owen?"

"Right here."

Stan turned to see his father marching towards him, damp clothes clinging to his skin. A paramedic was running after him, waving a first aid kit and looking visibly agitated.

"Owen!"

"Don't you 'Owen' me!" Owen's reponse steeled Stan for a lecture. Instead, he was wrapped in yet another warm embrace.

Caught off guard, Stan waited for the yelling to commence as his father moved him to arms length for an appraisal.

"Are you okay? You alright?"

"Did they find Tejeda?"

"He escaped." Fisher had caught up to the group, "Shot your friend and took his boat. Lucky for Eric, Miss Dearing here fished him out of the water and managed to stop the bleeding till we docked." She eyed Claire admiringly, "Seems you saved his life. He needs surgery but he's gonna pull through."

"Well, did you send anybody after him?" Stan demanded, "I mean, he couldn't have gotten far..."

"No. I just thought I'd let him sail off into the sunrise with a stolen baby Raptor as a parting gift." The agent snapped. The teenager turned to his father.

"No. That's impossible. The Raptors..."

"Were distracted when Tejeda let the other dinos into the Park." Owen replied grimly, "He used the window to steal one of Blue's eggs." He dug into his pocket, producing a broken fragment of shell. "She brought it to me when we met up with the others at the beach."

"That explains why she was so upset." Stan regretted his exchange with the Raptor.

Fisher fiddled with her earpiece, "Just got word. Coast guard found Eric's boat twenty miles out to sea. It's been abandoned. No sign of Tejeda or the egg. Best guess is a chopper picked him up, although radar isn't showing an aerial traffice in the area. Trail's gone cold."

"What, so that's just it then?" Stan felt fury coiling inside him. Zack Mitchell joined the conversation, picking up the tail end.

"You mean all this was for nothing? You're just gonna let that bastard get away with it?"

"That is not what she said." Claire reprimanded.

"It's pretty tough to go off-grid with an infant Velociraptor. We'll find him." Fisher sounded confident. "In the meantime, Grady, could you please let this medic here check you out before he has a breakdown?"

Owen shook his head at the first-responder. "You want someone to treat?" He steered his son forwards, "Merry Christmas."

"She said you should...hey!" Stan's protest trailed off into a yelp as Owen propelled him the last few steps with a good-natured smack to the seat of his jeans.

"Move it."

Finding Owen's calm and amicable demeanour unnerving (and borderline creepy) Stan offered his arm to the medic for inspection.

* * *

Giving individual statements felt more draining to the group than the incident itself. It was bordering on nightfall when Fisher finally gave the order for the exhausted band of six to be taken back to Costa Rica. The detective herself remained on the island with a team, gathering evidence and searching for further clues. Owen warned them not to go inland. Fisher replied she did not need to be told how to do her job.

Several x-rays, shots, stitches and about twenty miles of red tape later, the group tucked into a local buffet.

Claire smiled as Gray practically inhaled his food. The band-aids on his fingertips were slick with grease. The thick grime coating his face was stained white with tear streaks. Gray had finally stopped crying on the boat trip back, slumped against his brother and fallen asleep.

"Oh god," Lowery mumbled with his mouth full, "this is amazing. Someone needs to give these guys a Michelin star, am I right?" It was only then he noticed Stan's vicious glare across the table, "If you're trying to move the salt shaker closer with The Force..."

"He took her baby." Stan spoke quietly, through grit teeth.

"What?"

"Blue. She helped us, trusted us. And he stole her child." Stan leaned over, "And it's on you, Lowery."

"Stan..." Claire attempted. Owen's hand squeezed hers under the table. A steel glint gleamed in his eye. Apparently he was backing his son on this one.

Of course he was. This was Blue.

"You know what, I am offended you would say that to me." Lowery stammered, "I'm the one who convinced Fisher to come here. Without me..."

"Without you," Stan's voice rose an octave, "Tejeda's operation would still be in diapers!"

"Would you keep it down?"

"You're helping us find him." The tone of Stan's command left zero room for argument. "Because if you don't, I'm getting in that witness stand and I'm ripping you a new one in court. If you're lucky, they won't throw away the key!"

"There they are!" Karen Mitchell's fraught voice echoed through the open-air restaurant. Flanked by her ex-husband, she wove through packed tables. Pale, haggard, rumpled clothes, red eyes. They both looked as drawn as their children.

The reunion was tender. Embraces, kisses, reassurances (the latter mainly from Zack who did his best to assure his parents they had not sustained any fatal injuries). Karen sobbed all over Claire. The boys' father shook Owen's hand. Arms were still intertwined and fingers locked together as Zack and Gray were whisked away to their parents' five star hotel for some much-needed rest.

"Wow, that was, like, super OTT, am I right?" Lowery began after the silence became unbearable.

"Lay off them, Lowery." Stan's defense of anything Mitchell was highly uncharaceristic.

"Well, excuse me, Oprah Winfrey." Lowery pushed away from the table, "Think I'm gonna go now."

"I'll come with you." Claire snatched his bicep hard enough to produce a wince, "We need to talk." She led him, protesting, to the outdoor porch.

Owen set his beer down and nudged his son across the table.

"What's your favorite color?"

Stan groaned, "You talked to Claire."

"I'm gonna go with gray."

"That's why you've been acting like such a weirdo."

"You seem to wear it a lot."

"I'm fifteen years old. I don't have a favorite color. Can we please talk about how we're gonna find Tejeda?"

"In a minute." Then, "I can be an asshole sometimes."

A soda bottle cap drummed on the table, "You and everybody else. This isn't going to help us track Tejeda down any..."

A large hand closed gently over Stan's, stilling the drumming. "It can wait."

Owen left his hand there. Stan felt it burning a hole in his skin. He avoided the man's eyes.

"Look, buddy...you were good out there. Not just good. You were freaking awesome."

The genuine praise brought the blood to Stan's cheeks.

"I've just never been great at letting go of things. And it's even harder with you because..." a throat cleared itself, "I feel like I don't even really have you yet. You were right, what you told Claire. I missed everything - your first steps, your first day of school..."

"I said it wasn't your fault."

"Maybe not. But that doesn't mean it's fair." Owen released Stan's hand with a squeeze, leaning back to choose his next words carefully, "I mean...what I'm trying to say is sorry. Sorry I'm such an asshole. 'Do as I say, not as I do' is a pretty shitty way to parent."

Stan shrugged non-commitally, "You're trying."

"Well I'm gonna try harder." The man offered. Then, "If that's okay with you."

"Why wouldn't it be?"

The walls Stan had put in place since his mother's death, the ones Owen had painstakingly been tearing down brick by brick, seemed firmly back in place. Or maybe it was a new wall. Not armed with barbs and hooks and vats of hot oil. Just indifferent, flat, faceless - like a block of concrete.

"Okay." Owen didn't like it, wasn't having it. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"Yeah." Stan moved on quickly, "So, I've been thinking. We should see if Fisher will let us access La Guarderia and snoop for clues."

"Already tried. She's got the place locked down tight. Plus, the feds want us back in the States so they can build their case. Our plane leaves in an hour."

"So basically, you're saying there's nothing we can do to help Blue get her baby back."

"I'm saying that the best thing we can do for Blue's baby is give Fisher the ammo she needs to open a wider net." Owen's tone was patient, "Plus, I gotta get you home and back in school before Phil tears me a new one."

"I can miss another semester."

The back of Owen's hand inched towards Stan's forehead. He batted it away.

"I am not sick!"

"Well, don't say shit like that, then!" Owen leant back in his chair with an unhappy squint, "You freak me out, man."

The pout was enough to produce a grudging half-smile from Stan - which produced an even wider grin from Owen.

"Sorry about that." Claire returned briskly, "Just making sure Lowery touched base with Fisher's people before we head out. He'd conveniently forgotten that handing over his passport was part of the deal he cut."

"Take it you helped him out with that." Her fiance stood up from the table.

"I have an excellent memory." She raised her eyebrows at the pair, "Shall we?"

* * *

A week passed by. Then two. Then three. Miserable weather settled over San Diego - a perpetual downpour of drizzle. Then, the sun. Stitches were removed, scabs fell away to reveal fresh skin. Declarations of wellbeing were issued by medical authorities. Building works continued in Minnesota. Claire enrolled Stan in a local private school. Stan, for her sake, did his best to hide his utter contempt for it. Owen made it his personal mission to drive Eric across the country after his release from hospital to reunite him with his family. Zack and Gray, despite being grounded into oblivion, found ways to keep in touch.

Life went on much as it always had, considering the circumstances.

Until it didn't.

* * *

They were at the mall when it happened. The contractor supervising the ranch's construction needed confirmation on some tiling for the bathrooms. Claire decided she had enough stress to deal with and that it was high time Stan and Owen pulled their weight. Despite a contest during which father and son competed for title of Person Who Cared Least, they both ended up in the local homeware store with strict instructions not to come home until their mission was complete.

"Let's just get this over with." Owen muttered to his son, "You pick out the borders and I'll pick out the pattern. We'll meet back here in twenty minutes."

"Done." Stan was in no mood to hang around. Things had been uncomfortable for him ever since Isla Nublar Round 2. Owen's new approach to parenting was significantly softer round the edges than the rough-cut first edition. The fresh upheaval was the last straw for Stan, who had finally suceeded in regaining self-control.

He was one empathetic conversation-starter away from insisting on a cat-scan.

The border tiling took up two whole aisles. Clutching the approved color palette Claire had bequeathed them with, Stan perused the lines of swirls, squiggles and spots. He squinted at a charming paisely pattern and checked his sample.

"Duck egg Blue. Why does this say Duck Egg Green? Which is it, for Christ's sake?"

"It's the same thing." The gravelly drawl was soft on his back. Stan cocked his head, not daring to believe his ears.

His eyes were lying too, apparently.

"These salespeople, see," The man continued, "they paint it all with the same damn brush and give it a different name. Calling a fish a bird doesn't make it fly, though - does it, son?"

Stan felt his muscles tense, his throat constrict. He turned to leave, but a beefy arm swung out, blocking his path.

"What's the matter, Stanley?" He was tall, tanned, a tailored jacket hugging broad lines. The white of his perfectly groomed goatee matched that of his teeth as they flashed, "Too grown up to give your grandpa a hug?"

"Excuse me." Stan flagged down an employee, "My friend here needs help finding a good paint thinner. Oh, and...please speak slowly." He leaned in closer, "Suffers from dementia."

"Of course. Right this way, sir." The employee moved in, allowing Stan the window he needed to beat a hasty retreat. He practically skidded to a halt as he bumped into Owen.

"Whoa." His dad's tree trunk of a frame steadied them both.

"Waxy floor race!" Stan yelled abruptly, spotting his stalker heading towards them, "Three, two, one, go!"

"What?!"

Leaving his totally bewildered father in his wake, Stan ran, then broke into a slide. He heard Owen call his name, louder than it should have been. A moment later, Owen raced past him, shoes skidding across the polished floor.

The man was grinning from ear to ear, "Aha! Eat my dust!"

The grin disappeared as the pair approaced a giant palette of cans.

"Shit!" Stan tried to stop. He really did. Only a well-timed shove from Owen saved him from his fate. The pair hurtled towards the household aisle and collided with a stack of toilet rolls.

* * *

"You had one job. One job!" Claire was far from impressed.

"Hey. We got the tiles!" Owen stated in his defense.

"Yes. Luckily, Security were kind enough to let you buy them before escorting you out of the building!"

"Stan started it!"

"And finished it." The young man muttered.

"Oh hell no. I beat you, fair and square...I mean..." Owen cleared his throat at a scowl from his fiance, "...what matters is that nobody was hurt. Don't you think?" Eyebrows rose at Claire.

She rolled her eyes, "I'd ground you both but then I'd never get rid of you." Instead, she opened a bottle of wine as she rummaged through the plastic bag of samples on the counter, "And what the hell am I supposed to do with paint thinner?"

Owen frowned at the item, "I didn't put that in there."

"Cashier must've scanned it by mistake." Claire shrugged as she filled up her glass. She didn't notice the color drain from Stanley's face.

"Anybody want anything from the store?" He pulled his jacket on. His father cast him a befuddled look.

"Not really. Seeing as we were just at the store and all."

"We forgot Twinkies. I'm just gonna go to the 7-Eleven. Back in a sec."

Stan dashed through the front door before anybody had a chance to question his peculiar behaviour. The night air breathed in his face, pushed at his collar. Stan was still enjoying the fresher weather, a stark contrast from the humid hell of Isla Nublar. He pulled up his hood and walked a block. Rain began to spit at the sidewalk, staining the concrete black.

"I see you got my message."

He was leaning against a papered lamp post. Cigarette beween his lips, white buzz-cut catching the neon light.

"I'm here to buy Twinkies, Stewart."

"That what you told your daddy, is it?" Ash flicked against the curb, "Owen Grady - nice kid. Nice, and dumb. Your mother dipped her toe in that hick's pond just long enough to ruin her life."

Stan's jaw set, lips pressing tight against each other.

"Your grandmother's worried about you, Stanley. All this stuff in the news about Grady and that dinosaur island. Seems you were dragged out there twice in just about as many months. In and out of hospital. No school, no fixed abode, no...stabiity. I've got to be honest - it's cause for concern."

An attempt to brush past his grandfather was seen as provocation. A hand shot out, grabbing the tendon on Stan's shoulder. Fingers dug deep, trapping nerves, stopping him dead.

"Look how tight that Grady's got you wound." The artificial worry was sickening, "Too scared to speak up, even to your mother's own family. Used to be we couldn't get you to shut up." Fading green bruises were traced with a callous fingertip, "This how he keeps you quiet?"

"Maybe I just have nothing to say to you."

"Maybe. Or maybe you're afraid of what'll happen if you talk about what that hillbilly's been putting you through. At least, I'm sure that's how a judge will see it."

"They'd have to have pretty fucked-up eyesight to see past a restraining order."

"I thought you'd bring that up. See, that's been overturned." A cold smile, "God bless Lady Justice. She really is impartial."

"She's blind." Stan leaned into the man's vicegrip, ignoring the pain, "But those cops over there? They can see just fine."

Stewart's gaze flicked sideways. Two police officers, hands full of steaming styrofoam, stepped out of the store. Eyes rolling back to his grandson, the man caught a glimpse of something new - and dangerous. He swapped the iron fist for a friendly pat.

"See you soon."

Stan watched the tall man nod at the cops as he ambled towards the car park. His shoulder burned. His anger burned hotter. Stan's pocket buzzed. A Whatsapp message from Zack Mitchell appeared on the screen.

 _Call me. I found him_.

* * *

"Where are the Twinkies?"

Stan pulled off his headphones as he strode through the door. "Sorry?"

Owen was fresh out the shower, shirtless and still towelling his hair, "You said you were getting Twinkies."

"I did."

"So?"

"What?"

"Hand them over!"

Stan rolled his eyes as Owen held out a palm, "Pig." He produced the contraband package and tossed it at his father. "I didn't want any, thanks for asking."

"I didn't." Owen was already scarfing down the treat. "Bunch more in the snacks cupboard, by the way."

Shit. Stan kept a straight face, "I didn't see any."

"'I didn't see any'." His father laughed, "You didn't even look." He whacked Stan on the shoulder with the Twinkie multi-pack. The action was not designed to produce a wince.

It did.

Stan covered the wince in an annoyed huff, "Well, the way you eat, we can never have too many Twinkies."

"Ain't it the truth!" Owen's mouth was full.

Stan's phone started to ring. Zack's caller ID popped up.

"Aren't you gonna get that?" His father was pulling on a henley.

"God, what are you, the Question King tonight? Jesus!" The young man stomped off to his room.

"Hey, Grumpy!" A Twinkie hit the back of his head, "Get your blood sugar up!"

The bruising was literally finger-shaped. Stan just had to hope Owen wouldn't randomly bust into his bedroom while he was undressed. He prodded the swollen, mottled flesh along his collar bone and rolled his eyes.

"Zack."

"Are you alone?"

"Yeah."

"I found him, Stan."

"Where and how?" Stan looked through his curtains. The rain had started again. He fought against the shadows he imagined were lurking.

"Tejeda has clients and investors in the States. Whoever wanted that baby Raptor obviously has the means to cover both their asses, right?"

"So?"

"So I hacked Richard Dougal's LinkedIn and ran a seach for anybody connected to Costa Rica and the US in his circle."

"You need to stop binge-watching CSI."

"I found one match. Christina Perry. CEO of Bright Ideas, inc. Just sold her latest offshoot company for two milllion dollars. Google her."

Stan already had his tablet out. "Bright Ideas. Looks like she funds all kinds of think tanks, research facilities etc."

"One of which is a cloning lab InGen once considered for partnership." Zack sounded breathless, "Got shut down last year for unethical practice."

"You think it's still running?"

"It's a start."

"It's not Tejeda."

"Perry had a photo on her LinkedIn of her and Dougal having dinner in the same restaurant where Claire and Owen met Tejeda. I'm telling you, she's the client."

"Why not feed this to Fisher? She has resources, connections."

"You trust her?"

"My dad trusts her."

"And that's good enough for you?"

Stan tugged at his ratty hair, "You're not hearing me. He's not gonna sign off on any more recon. We threw Fisher the ball and she's running with it."

"Then how come she missed this?"

"Maybe she didn't."

A frustrated sigh, "Tahoe. That's where the facility is. The Dearings have a family cabin by the lakes. Already got my mom to sign off on a family weekend up there next Friday."

"Aren't you grounded till you're thirty or something?"

"Eh. My mom'll break before we do. We've already driven her crazy enough to lift the no-tech ban."

"Sounds great. Breaking and entering into an abandoned cloning lab - quality family fun." Stan wasn't convinced.

"Stan. Come on. This is Blue's baby we're talking about."

SIlence. Contemplation. Then, "Owen's never gonna go for it."

"So make something up."

Tahoe. Cool, crisp air engulfing rolling hills. Mist eating up fresh, clean water. It was a far cry from the humid hell of Isla Nublar.

And miles away from Stewart Simmons.

"I'll call you back in the morning."

* * *

Claire hated sharing the apartment block gym with Owen. It was one thing enduring the stares he recieved from the PTA moms or the store assistants. But Owen during a workout was apparently must-see, compelling footage. Claire had lost count of the number of times a woman (and sometimes, the odd man) had fallen off a treadmill or dropped a weight because they were too busy unabashedly gawking at Owen doing push ups.

The worst part was that Owen seemed entirely oblivious. He genuinely believed that the chiseled pair of abs in a WonderWoman sports bra wanted to discuss the benefits of burpees. Or that the clearly ripped blonde under the barbell was in sudden distress and urgently needed a spotter.

"You're just being paranoid." Owen would dismiss Claire's complaints. She was, however, vindicated when Stan, having forgotten his set of keys, ambled down to the gym to steal Owen's.

Stan had instantly been set upon by a swarm of Amazonion beauties.

"Oh my god, Owen, is this your son?"

"You never told us he was so good-looking. Must run in the genes."

"You two are so cute together!"

"So did you ever think of having another kid? I find that so attractive in a man."

Most teenage boys would have enjoyed the attention. Stan, who had very fixed ideas about the type of person that was worth his time, was far from impressed. After very loudly announcing that Claire would make a fabulous mother, which drew scowls (and a blush from Miss Dearing), Stan had refused to ever come near the gym again.

Which is why Claire was very surprised when the young man showed up during her morning workout.

"Stan." Claire pulled her earbuds out and paused the treadmill, "Are you locked out again?"

"No. I just...needed to talk to you."

"Okay." Sensing it was urgent, she hopped off, "Oh." Stan was even holding up her face towel, "Thank you. So, what's up?"

Stan was twisting the cap off her water bottle as he extended fought suspicion.

"Well, I just heard from Zack that they're all going to your guys' cabin in Tahoe next weekend. I was wondering if I could maybe go as well?"

She swallowed a cool draught and wiped her mouth, "I thought you didn't like my family. Why the sudden change in heart?"

"I never said I didn't like them."

"You used a more colorful description."

"A lot changed since we got stuck on Isla Nublar." Stan reasoned, "Zack and I are like...war buddies."

She fought a smile, "War buddies."

"Yes. You know, like Owen and Barry. Two men brought together through tragic events, forging a lifelong bond in the face of adversity, etc, etc?" Stan's straight face was the only thing holding back Claire's laughter.

"Look, I'm really glad you and Zack are getting along. But I have a full schedule next week and your dad has a follow-up with Fisher's team. It's really not good timing."

"Yeah, I figured. That's why I'm suggesting I go alone."

Claire winced sympathetically, "Good luck getting that past your dad." Seeing the slump in Stan's expression, she hastily changed course, "Let me talk to Owen. Maybe I can persuade him."

"You're a queen." Stan's compliment, while blatantly flattery, was still rare enough to bring a satisfied smile out in Claire. He folded her towel over her shoulder and headed out of the gym.

"Your son is so cute." One of the newbies, a brunette clad in underarmour from head to toe, commented asininely.

"Oh...no...he's..."

"You guys are in number twenty-five, right? I'm Ashley. I just moved in downstairs. I saw your husband in here the other day. I was saying we could all have dinner one night? I'm free next Friday."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Claire feigned distress, "We're all going to our family cabin in Tahoe."

* * *

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